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LIBRARY  OF  THE  THEOLOGICAL  SEMINARY 

PRINCETON,  N.  J. 


BX  5199    .H37  188G 
Haslam,  William. 
From  death  into  life 


Digitized  by 

tlie  Internet  Arcliive 

in  2015 

littps://arcliive.org/details/fromdeatliintolifOOhasl_0 


FROM 


DEATH  INTO  LIFE: 

OR, 

Ctocntg  fturs  of  mii  Pinistrn. 


REV. 

{Late  Incumbent  of  Curzon  Chapel,  May/air), 

OF  "  BUILDING  FROM  THE  TOP— TWENTY-FOUR  TRUE  TALES  OF  CONVER- 
SION," "the  THREEFOLD  GIFT  OF  GOD,"  ETC. 


NEW  YORK: 
D.  APPLETON  AND  COMPANY, 
I,  3,  AND  5  BOND  STREET. 
1880. 


TO  THE 
RIGHT  HONORABLE 

FRANCIS  ALEXANDER, 

THE  EARL  OF  KINTORE, 
MY   STEADY   AND    UNCHANGING  FRIEND, 
THIS  VOLUME 

|s  affcttionntclg  instribtb 

AS  A 

TOKEN    OF  REGARD. 


INTRODUCTION. 


|HIS  volume  is  not  so  much  a  history  of  my  own 
hfe,  as  of  the  Lord's  deaUngs  with  me ;  setting 
forth  how  He  wrought  in  and  by  me  during  the 
space  of  twenty  years.  It  will  be  observed  that 
this  is  not,  as  biographies  generally  are,  an  account  of  life 
on  to  death;  but  rather  the  other  way — a  narrative  of 
transition  from  death  into  life,  and  that  in  more  senses 
than  one. 

I  had  been  given  over  by  three  physicians  to  die,  but  it 
pleased  the  Lord,  in  answer  to  prayer,  to  raise  me  up  again. 
My  restored  health  and  strength  I  thankfully  devoted  to  a 
religious  and  earnest  life.  In  the  height  and  seeming  pros- 
perity of  this,  the  Lord  awakened  me  to  see  that  I  was  dead 
in  trespasses  and  sins ;  still  far  from  Him ;  resting  on  my 
own  works  ;  and  going  about  to  establish  my  own  righteous- 
ness, instead  of  submitting  to  the  righteousness  of  God. 
Then  He  quickened  me  by  the  Holy  Ghost,  and  raised  me 
up  into  a  new  and  spiritual  life. 

In  this  volume  the  reader  will  meet  with  the  respective 
results  of  (what  I  have  called)  the  Religious,  as  distin- 
guished from  the  Spiritual,  life.    The  former  produced 


viii  INTRODUCTION. 

only  outward  and  ecclesiastical  effects,  while  the  latter 
brought  forth  fruit  in  the  salvation  of  souls,  to  the  praise 
and  glory  of  God. 

One  object  in  writing  this  book  is  to  warn  and  instruct 
earnest-minded  souls,  who  are,  as  I  was  once,  strangers  to 
the  experience  of  salvation,  seeking  rest  where  I  am  sure 
they  can  never  find  it,  and  labo'uring  to  do  good  to  others 
when  they  have  not  yet  received  that  good  themselves. 
They  are  vainly  "  building  from  the  top trj'ing  to  live 
before  they  are  born;  to  become  holy  before  they  have 
been  justified  ;  and  to  lead  others  to  conversion  before  they 
have  been  converted  themselves. 

A  second  object  is— to  draw  the  attention  of  every 
earnest,  seeking,  or  anxious  soul,  to  consider  the  Lord's 
marvellous  goodness  in  first  bearing  with  me  in  my  religious 
wanderings,  and  then  using  me  for  His  glory  in  the  sal- 
vation of  hundreds. 

Another  desire  I  have  is — to  cheer  the  hearts  of 
believers  who  are  working  for  God,  by  relating  to  them 
what  He  has  done  through  me,  and  can  do  again,  by  the 
simple  preaching  of  the  Gospel.  Here  the  reader  will  meet 
with  narratives  of  the  Lord's  work  in  individual  cases,  in 
congregations,  and  in  parishes — wonderful  things  which  are 
worthy  of  record. 

I  have  not  shunned  to  tell  of  the  mistakes  I  fell  into 
after  my  conversion,  hoping  that  others  may  take  heed  and 
profit  by  them ;  and  then  I  shall  not  have  written  in  vain. 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  I.  PAGE 
The  Broken  Nest— Illness— Recovery— Devotion  .  .         •  I 

CHAPTER  H. 

Religious  Life— "  Tracts  for  the  Times"— Outward  Profession     .  8 
CHAPTER  HI. 

Ordination— First  Parish— Country  Choir— Church  Restoration    .  l6 

CHAPTER  IV. 
Perranzabuloe — The    Lost  Church   Found— Cornish  Crosses — 

Ministry  Rejected       .  .  .  .  •  .24 

CHAPTER  V. 

New  Parish— Temporary  Church— Rev.  R.  S.  Hawker— Baldhu 


CHAPTER  VL 
Building  from  the  Top— A  Picture— Extempore  Preaching— Rev. 

J,  Berridge's  Experience— Awakening— The  Happy  Gardener  42 

CHAPTER  VIL 
Visit  to  Rev.  R.  Aitken  at  Pendeen— "Are  You  Satisfied?"— 
"The  Parson's  Converted  1  "—"  God  stop  the  Man  that's 
Wrong  I"  S3 


X 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  Vin.  PAGE 
The  Revival— Wonderful  Scenes— Noisy  Demonstrations  .  .  65 

CHAPTER  IX. 
A  Cornish  Funeral— The  Necessity  of  Conversion— A  Visitor- 
Solemn  Conversation    .  .         .  ,  .  .72 

CHAPTER  X. 

The  First  Christmas— Schoolmaster's  Conversion— The  Clerk — 


The  Ringer      .  .  .  .  .  .  ,80 

CHAPTER  XI. 

Remarkable  Dreams  and  Visions— Their  Fulfilment        .  .  87 

CHAPTER  XII. 

Billy  Bray— His  Visit  to  the  Parsonage— His  Story— Unusual 

Demonstration  of  Joy  .  .  ,  .  .  -99 

CHAPTER  XIII. 

Frank— His  Wonderful  Conversion— Cottage  Meetings— The 

"Wise  Woman" — Her  Warnings      .  .         .  ,110 

CHAPTER  XIV. 


Open  Air  Services— Preaching  on  Perran  Beach— Letting  Down 
the  Net— Fish  Caught— The  Young  Lady— The  Pet  Kid— 
Rose-in- Vale — Preaching  in  the  Garden— The  Coastguards- 
men — Mount  Hawke — Preaching  on  a  Common— Remarkable 
Manifestation  of  the  Spirit's  Work — A  Continuous  Meeting 


for  Eight  Days .  .  .  .  .  .  .118 

CHAPTER  XV. 
Two  Professors  of  Religion — Their  Conversion — Drawing-room 
Meeting— The  Mayor  Saved— Meeting  in  Town  Hall— The 
Vicar's  Disapproval      ......  128 

CHAPTER  XVL 
Offence  of  the  Cross — Opposition — Clerical  Meetings — Sermons — 
Newspapers — Pamphlets — "Little  Doggie  Barking  at  an 
Elephant  134 


CONTENTS.  xi 

CHAPTER  XVII.  PAGE 
Midnight  Conversion — Popular  Preacher — Not  a  Common  Sinner 
— The  Broken  Leg — Sins  Forgiven — The  Uncommon  Sinner 
—Revival        .  .  .  .  .         .  .  14S 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 
The  Mill  Pond  and  the  Sea — Visit  to  Veryan — A  Memorable  Sun- 
day— Service  in  a  Fish  Cellar — The  Devil's  Baits  and  Plooks  152 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

Mission  in  the  "Shires"- — Devonshire — Dorsetshire— A  Jesuit — 
Preaching  in  a  Minster — "Bring  him  Back  1  " — "Very 
Remarkable  1  "  .  .  .  .  .  .  161 


CHAPTER  XX. 
A  Lady  from  London  to  see  a  Revival— Reformation  not  Conver- 
sion— The  Child  of  God — A  Relative— An  Invitation  .  173 

CHAPTER  XXL 
Golant  Mission— The  Lord's  Preparation— Water  Party — Burning 

an  Effigy — Lecture  on  Pilgrim's  Progress — Visit  to  a  Neighbour  182 

CHAPTER  XXIL 
The  High  Church  Rector  and  his  Curate — Dr.  Pusey's  Sermon- 
Sam's  Testimony — Dangerous  Drive — Great  Joy       .         .  193 

CHAPTER  XXIIL 
Rev.  R.  Aitken  in  Staffordshire — Bishop  of  Lichfield — Invitation 

— Preaching— Its  Results        ,         ..         .  .  ,  201 

CHAPTER  XXIV. 

Dissatisfaction  with  the  Work— New  Discoveries  in  the  Bible — 

Sanctification— The  Dream     .....  208 

CHAPTER  XXV. 
Believers'  Hope  opened  to  View— Popish  Legend— Three  Judg- 
ments—The Tripod     .  .  ,  .         ,  .  218 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  XXVI.  page 
Invited  to  Plymouth— Three  Mountains  Removed— Resignation  of 
Baldhu — The  Bishop's  Refusal  to  Institute— Disappointment .  225 

CHAPTER  XXVII. 
High-Church  Services— The  "Monk  that  Paints  Apostles  "—The 

Dream  of  Fire — Christ,  not  the  Crucifix        .         .  .  234 

CHAPTER  XXVIII. 
Devonport— Conversion  of  Two  Clergymen— Rejection  by  their 

Father  Confessor— The  Dying  Lady— Removal  to  the  Country  243 

CHAPTER  XXIX. 
A  Mission  to  the  North  of  England— The  Miner  in  Church — 
Edward's  Grave— Visit  to  C— The  Churchwarden— "  Paul 
Pry" — "Now  or  Never  !  " — The  Conversion  of  Mr.  F.         .  250 

CHAPTER  XXX. 
Tregoney— Opposition— The  Mud  Patch— The  Revival— The  Vicar 

and  the  M.P.— The  Testimonial        .  .  .  .264 

CHAPTER  XXXI, 
Secessions  to  Rome — Their  Mistake— False  Interpretations  of 
Scripture — Instituted  to  a  Living— Unsettled  .  .  .27' 

CHAPTER  XXXIL 
Removal  to  Hayle— Infidels— Determined  to  Preach  Christ  Cruci- 
fied—Success of  the  Work— Remarkable  Dream— All  Night 
Services         .......  278 

CHAPTER  XXXIIL 
The  Church— Dissolving  Views— Bible  Classes — Grave  Clothes    .  290 

CHAPTER  XXXIV. 
The  Bethel  Flag— Infidels'  Club  Broken  Up— Raking  the  Cinders 

— Conversion  of  an  Infidel      .....  299 

CHAPTER  XXXV. 
Rev.  R.  Aitken's  Visit  to  Hayle — Its  Great  Result— Dismissal — 
The  Last  Christmas— The  Farewell    .  .  *  310 


FROM  DEATH  INTO  LIFE. 


CHAPTER  I. 


T  the  time  in  which  this  history  begins,  I  had,  in 
the  providence  of  God,  a  very  happy  nest ;  and 
as  far  as  temporal  prospects  were  concerned,  I 
was  provided  for  to  my  liking,  and,  though  not 
rich,  was  content.  I  had  taken  my  degree ;  was  about  to 
be  ordained  ;  and,  what  is  more,  was  engaged  to  be  married  : 
in  order,  as  I  thought,  to  settle  down  as  an  efficient  country 
parson. 

With  this  bright  future  before  me,  I  went  on  very 
happily ;  when,  one  evening,  after  a  hard  and  tiring  day, 
just  as  I  was  sitting  down  to  rest,  a  letter  was  put  into  my 
hand  which  had  been  following  me  for  several  days.  "  Most 
urgent  "  was  written  on  the  outside.  It  told  me  of  the 
alarming  illness  of  the  lady  to  whom  I  was  engaged,  and 
went  on  to  say  that  if  I  wished  to  see  her  alive  I  must  set 
ofT  with  all  haste.  It  took  me  a  very  short  time  to  pack 
my  bag  and  get  my  travelling  coats  and  rugs  together,  so ' 


2  .  FROM  DEA  TH  INTO  LIFE. 

that  I  was  all  ready  to  start  by  the  night  mail.  At  eight 
o'clock  punctually  I  left  London  for  the  journey  of  two 
hundred  and  eighty  miles.  All  that  night  I  sat  outside  the 
coach ;  all  the  next  day  ;  and  part  of  the  following  night.  I 
shall  never  forget  the  misery  of  mind  and  body  that  I  ex- 
perienced, for  I  was  tired  before  starting ;  and  the  fatigue 
of  sitting  up  all  night,  together  with  the  intense  cold  of  the 
small  hours  of  the  morning,  were  almost  beyond  endurance. 
With  the  morning,  however,  came  a  warm  and  bright  sun- 
shine, which  in  some  degree  helped  to  cheer  me ;  but  my 
bodily  suffering  was  so  great  that  I  could  never  have  held 
up,  had  it  not  been  for  the  mental  eagerness  with  which  I 
longed  to  get  forward.  It  was  quite  consonant  with  my 
feelings  when  the  horses  were  put  into  full  gallop,  especially 
when  they  were  tearing  down  one  hill  to  get  an  impetus  to 
mount  another. 

At  length,  the  long,  long  journey  was  over  ;  and  about 
thirty  hours  after  starting,  I  found  myself  staggering  along 
to  the  well-known  house.  As  I  approached,  the  door  was 
softly  opened  by  a  relative  who  for  several  days  had  been 
anxiously  watching  my  arrival.  She  at  once  conducted  me 
upstairs,  to  what  I  expected  was  a  sick  chamber,  when,  to 
my  horror,  the  first  thing  I  saw  was  the  lid  of  a  coffin  stand- 
ing up  against  the  wall,  and  in  the  middle  of  the  room  was 
the  coffin,  with  candles  burnmg  on  either  side. 

I  nearly  fell  to  the  ground  with  this  tremendous  shock 
and  surprise.  There  was  the  dear  face,  but  it  seemed 
absorbed  in  itself,  and  to  have  lost  all  regard  for  me.  It  no 
longer  turned  to  welcome  me,  nor  was  the  hand  stretched 
out,  as  heretofore,  to  meet  mine.  All  was  still ;  there  was 
no  smile — no  voice — no  welcome— nothing  but  the  silence 
of  death  to  greet  me. 

The  sight  of  that  coffin,  with  its  quiet  inmate,  did  not 
"awaken  sorrow  so  much  as  surprise ;  and  with  that,  some- 


«  THY  WILL  BE  DONE  r 


3 


thing  like  anger  and  rebellion.  I  was  weak  and  exhausted 
in  body,  but  strong  in  wilful  insubordination.  Murmuring 
and  complaining,  I  spoke  unadvisedly  with  my  lips. 

A  gentle  voice  upbraided  me,  adding,  that  I  had  far 
better  kneel  down  in  submission  to  God,  and  say,  "  Thy 
will  be  done  ! "  This,  however,  was  not  so  easy,  for  the 
demon  of  rebellion  had  seized  me,  and  kept  me  for  three 
hours  in  a  tempest  of  anger,  filling  my  mind  with  hard 
thoughts  against  God.  I  walked  about  the  room  in  the 
most  perturbed  state  of  mind,  so  much  so,  that  I  grieved 
my  friends,  who  came  repeatedly  to  ask  me  to  kneel  down 
and  say,  "  Thy  will  be  done  !  "  "  Kneel  down — just  kneel 
down ! "  At  length  I  did  so,  and  while  some  one  was 
praying,  my  tears  began  to  flow,  and  I  said  the  words,  "  Thy 
will  be  done  ! "  Immediately  the  spell  was  broken,  and  I 
was  enabled  to  say  from  my  heart,  again  and  again,  "  Thy 
will  be  done  !  "  After  this,  I  was  conscious  of  a  marvellous 
change  in  my  mind ;  rebellion  was  gone,  and  resignation 
had  come  in  its  place.  More  than  that,  the  dear  face  in 
the  coffin  seemed  to  lie  smiling  in  peace,  so  calm  and  so 
lovely,  that  I  felt  I  would  not  recall  the  spirit  that  was  fled, 
even  if  it  had  been  possible.  There  was  wrought  in  me 
something  more  than  submission,  even  a  lifting-up  of  my 
will  to  the  will  of  God ;  and  withal,  such  a  love  towards 
Him  that  I  wondered  at  myself  God  had  been,  as  it  were, 
a  stranger  to  me  before.  Now  I  felt  as  though  I  knew  and 
loved  Him,  and  could  kiss  His  hand,  though  my  tears 
flowed  freely. 

The  funeral  took  place  the  same  morning:  it  was  a 
time  of  great  emotion ;  sorrow  and  joy  met,  and  flowed 
together.  I  thought  of  the  dear  one  I  had  lost,  but  yet 
more  of  the  God  of  love  I  had  found  ;  and  to  remember 
that  she  was  with  Him  was  an  additional  comfort  to  me. 
The  funeral  service  was  soothing  and  elevating  beyond 


4 


FROM  DBA  TH  INTO  LIFE. 


expression ;  and  yet,  when  it  was  all  over,  such  a  sense  of 
desolation  came  upon  me,  that  I  felt  utterly  forlorn  and 
truly  sad. 

My  nest  was  now  completely  stirred  up  ;  but  instead  of 
bemoaning  its  broken  state,  I  could  see  the  eagle  fluttering 
over  her  young  ones  (Deut.  xxxii.  ii).  I  was  conscious 
that  God  was  looking  on,  and  that  He  had  not  forsaken  me 
in  this  great  wreck. 

The  strain  and  excitement  I  had  undergone  naturally 
brought  on  an  illness.  I  was  seized  with  inflammation  of 
the  lungs,  and  was  dangerously  ill.  From  this,  and  other 
complications  which  supervened,  the  doctor  pronounced  that 
I  could  not  recover,  and  bade  me  prepare  for  eternity. 

Judges  and  doctors,  when  they  pass  sentence  of  death, 
seem  to  regard  religion  as  a  necessary  preparation  for  it. 
Too  common,  also,  is  this  idea,  even  among  those  who  do 
not  belong  to  these  respected  professions.  My  own  opinion 
was  much  the  same  at  that  time. 

Having  received  this  solemn  warning,  I  took  down  the 
Prayer-book,  and  religiously  read  over  the  office  for  the 
Visitation  of  the  Sick.  I  became  so  interested  in  this 
exercise,  that  I  determined  to  read  it  three  times  a  day. 
The  prayer  for  a  sick  child  especially  commended  itself  to 
my  mind,  so  that,  by  changing  a  few  words,  I  made  it 
applicable  to  my  own  case,  and  used  it  not  only  three,  but 
even  seven,  times  a  day.  In  substance,  it  petitioned  that  I 
might  be  taken  to  heaven  if  I  died ;  or  that,  if  it  should 
please  God  to  restore  my  health.  He  would  let  me  live  to 
His  glory.  I  did  not  at  that  time  expect  my  days  would  be 
prolonged,  nor  had  I  any  wish  to  live,  for  the  world  was 
now  perfectly  blank  and  desolate  to  me.  I  felt  as  if  I  could 
never  be  happy  again;  to  be  with  God  would  be  far  better  ! 

I  little  dreamed  that  if  I  had  died  in  that  unpardoned 


HOPE  OF  RECOVERY. 


5 


and  Christless  state,  I  should  have  been  lost  for  ever ;  for  I 
was  profoundly  ignorant  of  the  necessity  of  change  of  heart 
— perfectly  unconscious  that  I  must  be  born  again  of  the 
Spirit.  This  vital  truth  had  never  come  to  my  mind ;  I 
felt  a  love  for  God,  and  in  my  ignorance  I  wished  to  die. 

One  morning  the  thought  came  to  me,  as  I  was  sitting 
all  alone  by  the  fire,  "  What  have  I  been  praying  for  ? — 
that  the  Lord  would  take  me  to  heaven  if  I  died ;  or,  if  I 
lived,  that  He  would  let  me  live  to  His  glory?"  Why,  this 
is  heaven  both  ways! — heaven  in  heaven,  or  heaven  on 
earth— whichever  way  it  pleases  God  to  answer  my  prayer. 
Somehow  I  felt  certain  that  He  would  answer  it.  I  was 
exceedingly  happy,  and  could  not  help  thanking  Him. 
From  that  day  I  began  to  feel  better,  and  became  impressed 
with  the  idea  that  I  was  to  live,  and  not  die.  The  doctor 
smiled  at  me  when  I  told  him  so,  for  he  did  not  believe  it. 
He,  and  two  other  physicians,  had  told  me  that  my  lungs 
were  diseased;  indeed,  six  months  afterwards,  all  three 
sounded  me,  and  declared  that  one  lung  was  inoperative, 
and  the  other  much  affected. 

Yet,  notwithstanding  the  doctor's  discouraging  announce- 
ment— for  he  told  me,  also,  that  "  it  was  one  of  the  fatal 
signs  of  consumption  for  the  patient  to  feel  or  think  he  was 
getting  better  "—I  had  a  certain  conviction  that  I  was  to 
recover.  As  soon  as  the  medical  man  had  gone,  I  put  on 
my  coat  and  hat,  and  went  out  for  a  walk.  I  trembled 
much  from  weakness,  and  found  it  necessary  to  move  very 
slowly  and  stop  often;  but  under  the  shelter  of  a  wall, 
courting  the  warmth  of  the  bright  shining  sun,  I  managed 
to  make  my  way  to  the  churchyard. 

While  I  was  sitting  there  alone,  the  great  bell  struck  out 
unexpectedly,  and  caused  me  to  shake  all  over ;  for  I  was 
in  a  very  weak  condition.  It  was  the  sexton  tolling  to 
announce  the  departure  of  the  soul  of  some  villager  from 


6 


FROM  DEATH  INTO  LIFE. 


the  world.  Having  done  this,  he  came  out  with  his  boards 
and  tools  to  dig  the  grave.  He  did  not  observe  me  sitting 
by ;  so  he  at  once  commenced,  and  went  on  diligently  with 
his  work.  The  ground  had  so  often  been  broken  before, 
that  it  did  not  take  him  long  to  accomplish  his  task :  he 
gradually  got  deeper  and  deeper  into  the  ground,  till  he 
disappeared  altogether  from  my  sight.  I  crept  to  the 
edge  of  the  narrow  pit  in  which  he  was,  and  looking  into  it,  I 
could  not  help  thinking  of  those  words  of  Kirke  White— 
"  Cold  grave,  methinks,  'twere  sweet  to  rest 
Within  thy  calm  and  hallowed  breast !  " 

I  had  no  fear  of  death,  but  rather  felt  that  I  should  wel- 
come it  even  more  than  restoration  to  health. 

I  have  even  now  a  most  vivid  remembrance  of  this,  and 
place  it  on  record  to  show  how  delusive  are  our  feelings : 
because  I  did  not  feel  any  danger,  I  took  it  for  granted  that 
there  really  was  none.  That  day,  however,  was  an  eventful 
one  in  my  life ;  for,  in  the  gladness  of  my  heart,  I  gave 
myself  to  God,  to  live  for  Him.  I  had  given  my  will  before, 
and  now  I  gave  my  life,  and  was  happy  in  the  deed.  I  did 
not  know  at  that  time  that  faith  does  not  consist  in  believ- 
ing that  I  have  given  myself,  even  if  I  meant  it  e%-er  so 
sincerely  ;  but  in  believing  that  God  has  taken  or  accepted 
me. 

At  the  outset,  I  began  with  the  former — a  merely  human 
faith — and  its  result  was  consequently  imperfect.  I  was 
spiritually  dead,  and  did  not  know  it.  Alas  !  what  multi- 
tudes there  are  who  are  utterly  unconscious  of  the  fact  of 
this  spiritual  death,  though  there  are  few  things  more  plainly 
declared  and  revealed  in  the  Word  of  God. 

The  full  meaning  of  the  word  death  is  too  often  mis- 
understood and  overlooked.  There  are  three  kinds  referred 
to  in  the  Word  of  God—  spiritual,  natural,  and  everlasting. 
The  first  is  a  separation  of  the  soul  from  God ;  the  second, 


DEATH  AND  LIFE 


7 


that  of  the  body  from  the  soul ;  and  the  last,  that  of  the 
unbelieving  man,  body  and  soul,  from  God  for  ever. 

It  will  be  seen  that  there  is  one  characteristic  which  is 
common  to  all  three  kinds — that  is,  separation  ;  and  that  there 
is  no  idea  of  finality — death  is  not  the  end.  When  the  Lord 
God  created  man,  we  suppose  that  He  made  him  not  merely 
in  the  form  of  a  body,  but  a  man  with  body  and  soul  com- 
plete ;  and  afterwards  that  He  breathed  into  this  living  man 
the  Spirit,  and  he  became  a  living  soul.  As  such,  he  com- 
muned with  the  eternal  God,  who  is  a  Spirit.  In  this 
spiritual  state  he  could  walk  and  converse  with  God  in  the 
garden  of  Eden.  When,  however,  he  disobeyed  the  com- 
mand which  had  been  given  to  him,  he  incurred  the  tremen- 
dous penalty.  The  Lord  God  had  said,  "  In  the  day  that 
thou  eatest  of  the  tree  of  the  knowledge  of  good  and 
evil,  thou  shalt  surely  die."  He  did  eat  and  he  died  there 
and  then  ;  that  is,  he  forfeited  that  spirit  which  had  quick- 
ened his  soul,  and  thus  became  a  dead  soul ;  though,  as  we 
know,  he  remained  a  living  man  for  nine  hundred  years 
before  his  body  returned  to  its  dust. 

By  his  one  act  of  disobedience,  Adam  opened  in  an 
instant  (as  an  earthquake  opens  a  deep  chasm)  the  great 
gulf,  the  impassable  gulf  of  separation  which  is  fixed 
between  us  and  God.  By  nature,  as  the  children  of  Adam, 
we  are  all  on  the  side  which  is  away  from  God  ;  and  we  are 
become  subject  also  to  the  sentence  pronounced  against  the 
life  of  the  body.  We  know  and  understand  that  wc  are 
mortal,  and  that  it  is  appointed  unto  men  once  to  die ;  but 
we  do  not  seem  to  be  aware  of  the  more  important  fact  of 
the  death  of  our  souls.  Satan,  who  said  to  our  first  parents, 
"  Ye  shall  not  surely  die,"  employs  himself  now  in  deceiving 
men  by  saying,  "  Ye  are  not  dead ;"  and  multitudes  beheve 
him,  and  take  it  for  granted  that  it  is  actually  true.  Thus  thev 
go  on  unconcerned  about  this  awful  and  stupendous  reahty. 


CHAPTER  II. 


Ilfltgious  Wife, 

ITH  returning  health  and  strength,  I  did  not  think 
of  going  back  into  the  world,  but  rather  gave 
myself  more  fully  to  the  purpose  for  which  I  sup- 
posed that  my  life  had  been  restored.  I  felt  a 
thankfulness  and  joy  in  my  recovery,  which  confirmed  me 
more  and  more  in  my  determination  to  live  to  the  glory  of 
God. 

When  I  was  able  to  return  to  the  South,  I  did  so  by 
easy  stages  till  I  got  back  to  the  neighbourhood  of  London; 
and  there  it  was  ordered  that  I  should  be  shut  up  for  the 
remainder  of  the  winter. 

During  this  season  of  retirement,  I  spent  my  time  most 
happily  in  reading  and  prayer,  and  found  great  delight  in 
this  occupation.  I  was  able  to  say,  with  the  Psalmist,  "  I 
love  the  Lord,  because  He  has  heard  my  voice  and  my 
supplication;"  and,  like  him,  I  could  say,  "I  will  call  upon 
Him  as  long  as  I  live ;  I  will  walk  before  Him  in  the  land  of 
the  living ;  and  I  will  take  the  cup  of  salvation  and  call 
upon  the  name  of  the  Lord."  That  is,  in  secret  or  private 
life  ;  in  social  intercourse  with  my  fellow-men ;  and  in  the 
worship  of  the  sanctuary,  I  will  seek  the  glory  of  God. 


TURNING  A  NEW  LEAF. 


9 


I  used  to  have  much  pleasure  every  day  in  asking  God 
to  give  me  a  deeper  sense  of  His  love,  that  I  might  un- 
feignedly  thank  Him,  and  show  forth  His  praise  with  my 
life  as  well  as  my  lips. 

All  this,  be  it  observed,  was  because  God  had  saved  not 
my  soul,  but  my  life  ;  for  as  yet  I  had  not,  like  the  Psalmist, 
felt  any  trouble  about  my  soul.  I  knew  nothing  of  what  he 
describes  as  the  "  sorrows  of  death  and  the  pains  of  hell." 
I  had  not  been  awakened  by  the  Spirit  to  know  the  danger 
and  sorrow  of  being  separated  from  God  (which  is  spiritual 
death).  I  was  perfectly  unconscious  that  between  God  and 
myself  there  was  the  "impassable  gulf"  I  have  already 
referred  to,  and  consequently  I  had  not  experienced  such 
overwhelming  anxiety  as  made  the  Psalmist  cry  out,  "O 
Lord,  I  beseech  Thee,  deliver  my  soul."  I  knew  nothing 
of  the  necessity  of  passing  from  death  to  life,  and  therefore 
I  could  not  say,  "The  Lord  has  delivered  my  soul  from 
death,  mine  eyes  from  tears,  and  my  feet  from  falling." 

The  only  thing  I  knew  was  that  God  was  good  to  me, 
and  therefore  I  loved  Him,  and  was  thankful,  not  for  the 
sake  of  getting  His  favour,  but  because  I  thought  I  had  it. 
I  turned  over  a  new  leaf,  and  therewith  covered  up  the 
blotted  page  of  my  past  life.  On  this  new  path  I  endea- 
voured to  walk  as  earnestly  in  a  religious  way,  as  I  had 
before  lived  in  a  worldly  one. 

This  mistake  into  which  I  fell  was  natural  enough,  and 
common  as  it  is  natural ;  but  for  all  this  it  was  very  seriou?, 
and  might  have  been  fatal  to  me,  as  it  has  proved  to  multi- 
tudes. I  did  not  see  then,  as  I  have  since,  that  turning  over 
a  new  leaf  to  cover  the  past,  is  not  by  any  means  the  same 
thing  as  turning  back  the  old  leaves,  and  getting  them 
washed  in  the  blood  of  the  Lamb. 

I  have  said  before  that  I  did  not  know  any  better ;  nor 
was  I  likely  to  see  matters  in  a  clearer  light  from  the  line  of 


lO  FROM  DEA  TH  INTO  LIFE 

Study  in  which  I  was  chiefly  occupied.  I  was  absorbed  for 
the  time,  not  so  much  in  the  Bible  as  in  the  "  Tracts  for  the 
Times  " — a  publication  which  was  engaging  much  attention. 
These  Oxford  tracts  suited  me  exactly,  and  fitted  my  tone  of 
mind  to  a  nicety.  Their  object  was  the  restoration  of  the 
Church  of  England  from  a  cold,  formal  condition,  into 
something  like  reality — from  a  secular  to  a  religious  state  ; 
this  also  was  my  own  present  object  for  myself  I  read 
these  writings  with  avidity,  and  formed  from  them  certain 
ecclesiastical  proclivities  which  carried  me  on  with  renewed 
zeal. 

I  suppose  I  learned  from  the  perusal  of  them  to  inter- 
pret the  Bible  by  the  Prayer-book,  and  to  regard  the  former 
as  a  book  which  no  one  could  understand  without  the  inter- 
pretation of  the  Fathers.  Certain  it  is,  that  I  did  not  look 
to  the  Bible,  but  to  the  Church,  for  teaching,  for  I  was  led 
to  consider  that  private  judgment  on  the  subject  of  Scripture 
statements  was  very  presumptuous.  I  got,  moreover,  into  a 
legal  state,  and  thought  my  acceptance  with  God  depended 
upon  my  works,  and  that  His  future  favour  would  result 
upon  my  faithfulness  and  attention  to  works  of  righteous- 
ness which  I  was  doing.  This  made  me  very  diligent  in 
prayer,  fasting,  and  almsdeeds  ;  and  I  often  sat  and  dreamed 
about  the  works  of  mercy  and  devotion  which  I  would  do 
when  I  was  permitted  to  go  out  again. 

Like  persons  in  this  state  of  mind,  I  also  relied  on  ordi- 
nances, and  was  subject  to  thsm.  I  took  it  for  granted 
that  I  was  a  child  of  God,  because  I  had  been  baptized  and 
brought  into  the  Church  ;  and  having  been  confirmed  and 
admitted  to  the  Lord's  Table,  I  concluded  that  I  was  safely 
on  the  way  to  Heaven.  I  see  now  the  error  of  this  very 
earnest  devotion,  and  that  I  was  going  about  to  establish 
my  own  righteousness  instead  of  submitting  to  the  righteous- 
ness of  God.    I  like  to  remember  these  days  and  tell  of 


OUTWARD  PROFESSION. 


II 


them,  not  because  I  am  proud  of  them — far  otherwise ;  but 
because  they  show  the  kind  forbearance  and  patience  of  God 
towards  me,  and,  besides  this,  they  give  me  a  clearer  idea  of 
the  state  of  very  many  earnest  people  I  meet  with,  who  enter 
upon  a  religious  path  in  much  the  same  way. 

Such  persons  make  the  two  mistakes  already  referred  to 
They  start  with  believing  in  their  surrender  of  themselves, 
instead  of  God's  acceptance  of  it ;  and  secondly,  they  make 
their  continuance  therein  depend  upon  their  repeated  acts 
of  devotion.  They  live  and  walk  by  their  own  works,  not 
by  faith  in  the  finished  work  of  Christ.  What  shall  I  say 
to  these  things  ?  Shall  I  denounce  them  as  delusions  or 
superstitious  legality  ?  No.  I  would  far  rather  that  people 
should  be  even  thus  religious  than  be  without  religious  ob- 
servances— far  rather  that  they  should  be  subject  to  the 
Prayer-book  teaching  than  be  the  sport  of  their  own  vain 
imaginings.  If  men  have  not  given  their  hearts  to  God  and 
received  forgiveness  of  sins,  it  is  better  that  they  should 
give  themselves  to  a  Church  than  yield  themselves  to  the 
world  and  its  vanities. 

If  I  had  to  go  over  the  ground  again  under  the  same 
circumstances,  I  do  not  think  I  could  take  a  better  path. 
Church  teaching  by  itself,  with  all  its  legalities,  is  superior 
to  a  man's  own  inventions ;  and  the  form  of  godliness 
required  by  it,  even  without  spiritual  power,  is  better  than 
no.  form  or  profession  of  religion. 

To  say  the  least.  Church  teaching,  when  it  is  correctly 
followed,  instructs  the  conscience,  restrains  and  guides  the 
will,  and  imparts  a  practical  morality  which  we  do  not  find 
in  any  other  system.  I  have  more  hope  of  people  who  rest 
in  some  distinctive  and  positive  dogmas  than  of  those  who 
merely  deal  with  negations.  The  former  may  be  reached 
by  spiritual  teaching ;  the  latter  are  but  shadowy  adver- 
saries with  whom  it  is  impossible  to  engage. 


12  FROM  DBA  TH  INTO  LIFE. 

Therefore,  when  I  see  a  man,  for  conscience  towards 
God,  giving  up  the  world,  and  taking  up  with  reverential 
worship,  with  even  superstitious  veneration  for  ecclesiastical 
things,  because  they  are  so— when  I  see  a  man,  who  was 
careless  before,  become  conscientious  and  true  in  all  his 
outward  dealings,  very  particular  in  his  observance  of  private 
and  public  prayer,  exercising  self-denial,  living  for  others 
rather  than  himself,  bearing  and  forbearing  in  all  quietness 
and  meekness — I  cannot  do  other^vise  than  admire  him. 
This,  surely,  is  far  more  lovely  and  admirable  than  the 
opposite  of  these  things. 

Instead  of  joining  in  the  outcry  against  such  persons,  I 
feel  rather  in  sympathy,  and  have  a  desire  in  my  heart  to  win 
them  to  still  better  things,  and  to  show  them  "  the  way  of 
God  more  perfectly."  I  feel  that  they  are  stirred  as  I  was, 
and  are  struggling  in  self-righteousness,  not  because  they 
wilfully  prefer  it  to  God's  righteousness,  but  because  they 
are  yearning  for  true  and  spiritual  reality.  They  are  in  a 
transition  state,  and  the  more  restless  they  are,  the  more 
assured  I  am  that  they  will  never  attain  real  rest  and  satis- 
faction to  their  souls  till  they  have  found  God,  and  are 
found  of  Him  in  Christ  Jesus. 

But  the  question  may  be  asked,  "  Is  it  possible  for 
unsaved  people  (spiritually  dead)  to  be  so  good  and  reli- 
gious? Is  not  such  a  state  an  indication  of  spiritual 
vitality  ?  "  I  answer,  without  hesitation,  that  it  is  possible. 
Religion  by  itself,  irrespective  of  the  subject-matter  of  a 
creed,  may  have  a  quieting  and  controlling  effect  upon  the 
soul.  The  Hindoo,  the  Moslem,  the  Jew,  the  Romanist,  as 
well  as  the  Protestant,  may  each  and  all  be  wonderfully 
self-possessed,  zealous,  devout,  or  teachable,  or  even  all 
these  together,  and  yet  remain  dead  souls. 

As  a  boy  in  India,  I  remember  being  greatly  struck  with 
the  calmness  of  the  Hindoos,  as  contrasted  with  the  im- 


THE  HINDOO  WORSHIPPER. 


13 


patience  and  angry  spirit  of  the  English.  On  one  occasion 
I  observed  one  of  the  former  at  his  devotions.  He,  with 
others,  had  been  carrying  me  about  in  a  palankeen  all  day  in 
the  hot  sun.  In  the  evening,  he  most  reverently  took  from  his 
girdle  a  piece  of  mud  of  the  sacred  river  Ganges,  or  Gunga, 
as  they  call  it,  and  dissolving  this  in  water,  he  washed  a 
piece  of  ground,  then,  having  washed  his  feet  and  hands, 
he  stepped  on  this  sacred  spot,  and  began  to  cook  his  food. 
While  it  was  preparing,  he  was  bowed  to  the  ground,  with 
his  face  between  his  knees,  worshipping  towards  the  setting 
sun.  A  boy  who  was  standing  by  me  said,  "If  you  touch 
that  man  he  will  not  eat  his  dinner."  In  a  thoughtless 
moment  I  did  so  with  my  hand,  and  immediately  he  rose 
from  his  devotions ;  but  instead  of  threatening  and  swear- 
ing at  me,  as  some  might  have  done  who  belong  to  another 
religion,  he  only  looked  reproachfully,  and  said,  "Ah, 
Master  William  ! "  and  then  emptying  out  the  rice  which 
was  on  the  fire,  he  began  his  ceremony  all  over  again.  It 
was  quite  dark  before  he  had  finished  his  "  poojah,"  or  wor- 
ship, and  his  meal.  This  man's  religious  self-possession 
made  a  greater  impression  on  me  than  if  he  had  abused  or 
even  struck  me,  for  hindering  his  dinner.  I  thought  to 
myself,  "  I  will  be  a  Hindoo  when  I  grow  up  !  "  And  truly 
I  kept  my  word,  though  not  in  the  same  form ;  for  what 
else  was  I  in  my  earnest,  religious  days  ! 

This  is  an  important  question  to  settle,  and,  therefore,  I 
will  give  three  examples  from  Scripture. 

No  one  can  doubt  the  zeal  of  Saul  of  Tarsus.  His 
was  no  easy-going,  charitable  creed,  which  supposes  all  good 
men  are  right.  He  was  sure  that  if  he  was  right,  as  a 
natural  consequence  Stephen  was  wrong,  even  blasphemous, 
and  as  such  worthy  of  death.  Therefore,  he  had  no 
scruples  about  instigating  the  death  of  such  an  one.  Not- 


14  FROM  DEATH  INTO  LIFE. 

withstanding  all  this  uncompromising  and  straightforward 
religiousness,  he  needed  to  be  brought  from  death  to  life. 

Again  :  look  at  Cornelius,  who  was  "  a  devout  man  that 
feared  God  with  all  his  house,  which  gave  much  alms  to  the 
people,  and  prayed  to  God  alway"  (Acts  x.  2).  There  can 
be  no  mistake  about  this  man  with  such  a  testimony  ;  and 
yet  he  also  needed  to  hear  words  whereby  he  and  all  his 
house  should  be  saved  (Acts  xi.  14). 

Next :  Nicodemus,  I  suppose  it  will  be  admitted,  was  an 
earnest  and  religious  man.  Evidently,  he  was  one  of  those 
who  "  believed  in  the  name  of  Jesus,  because  he  saw  the 
miracles  which  He  did"  (John  ii.  23).  This  man,  humble 
and  teachable  as  he  was,  came  to  Jesus,  and  said,  "  Rabbi> 
we  know  that  Thou  art  a  teacher  come  from  God,  for  no 
man  can  do  these  miracles  that  Thou  doest,  except  God  be 
with  him."  Yet  he  was  told,  "  Except  a  man  be  born  again, 
he  cannot  see  the  kingdom  of  God."  "  Marvel  not  that  I 
said  unto  thee,  Ye  must  be  born  again  "  (John  iii.).  As 
surely  as  all  mankind  are  dead  in  Adam,  so  surely  every 
man  needs  spiritual  life.  In  this  respect  it  was  no  new 
thing  which  the  Lord  Jesus  propounded  to  Nicodemus. 
The  spiritual  change  of  heart  He  referred  to  has  always 
been  the  one  condition  of  intercourse  with  God.  All  God's 
saints,  even  in  the  Old  Testament  times,  had  experienced 
this.  Hence  the  Lord's  exclamation,  "Art  thou  a  master 
of  Israel,  and  knowest  not  these  things?" 

It  may  be  urged  that  these  three  men  were  not  in  the 
Christian  dispensation.  Let  this  be  granted ;  but  the  point 
at  hand  is  that  they  needed  spiritual  life,  though  they  were 
such  good  religious  men.  It  will  not  be  very  hard  to  prove 
that  even  baptized  men  in  the  Christian  dispensation  need 
to  be  raised  from  death  unto  life  just  as  much  as  any  other 


WINTER  OF  1841. 


children  of  Adam.  It  is  clear,  both  from  Scripture  and 
experience,  that  baptism,  whatever  else  it  imparts,  does  not 
give  spiritual  vitality. 

St.  Peter's  testimony  is  this,  "Of  a  truth  I  perceive  that 
God  is  no  respecter  of  persons ;  but  in  every  nation  he 
that  feareth  Him  and  worketh  righteousness  is  accepted  with 
Him"  (Acts  X.  34,  35).  Accepted  to  be  saved,  not  because 
there  is  any  merit  in  his  works,  but  because  God  sees  that 
there  is  real  sincerity  in  his  living  up  to  the  light  he  has. 
The  heathen  who  know  there  is  a  God,  and  do  not  worship 
Him  as  God,  are  given  over  to  idolatry  (Rom.  i.) ;  but,  on 
the  other  hand,  those  who  do  worship  Him,  and  give  Him 
thanks,  are  taken  in  hand  to  be  guided  into  life  and  truth. 
Therefore  are  we  justified  in  hoping  that  earnest  and  reli- 
gious men,  though  they  be  dead,  if  their  religion  is  really 
towards  God,  will  be  brought  to  spiritual  Ufe. 

It  was  a  happy  winter  to  me,  however,  notwithstanding  my 
spiritual  deficiencies ;  and  the  recollection  of  it  still  abides 
in  my  memory.  I  had  now  no  desire  for  the  world  and  its 
pleasures.  My  mind  had  quite  gone  from  such  empty 
amusements  and  frivolities ;  even  the  taste  I  used  to  have 
for  these  things  was  completely  taken  away. 

I  was  happier  now  than  ever  I  had  been  before,  so  that 
I  am  convinced  from  personal  experience  that  even  a  reli- 
gious life  may  be  one  of  joy,  though  by  no  means  so  satisfy- 
ing and  abiding  as  a  truly  spiritual  one.  I  was  happy,  as  I 
have  already  said,  and  longed  for  the  time  when  I  could 
be  ordained,  and  devote  my  energies  to  work  for  God  in 
the  ministry. 

2 


CHAPTER  III, 


(fi)ri>matt0n  anb  JFirst  ^arislj. 

1842. 


IN  the  returning  spring,  as  I  was  feeling  so  much 
stronger,  and  altogether  better,  I  thought  I  would 
and  see  the  physician  who  had  sounded  me 
some  months  before.    He,  after  a  careful  exami- 
nation, still  adhered  to  his  previous  opinion,  and  gave  very 
little  hope  of  my  recovery,  but  suggested  that  if  I  went  to  the 
north  coast  of  Cornwall  there  might  be  a  chance  for  me. 

On  my  return  home,  I  took  up  an  "  Ecclesiastical 
Gazette,"  though  it  was  three  months  old,  and  looked  over 
the  advertisements.  There  I  observed  one  which  invited  a 
curate  for  a  church  in  that  very  neighbourhood.  It  was  a 
sole  charge  ;  but,  strange  to  say,  a  title  for  holy  orders  was 
offered  also.  In  reply  to  this  I  yvrote  a  letter,  asking  for 
particulars,  in  which  I  stated  my  Church  views,  and  that  I 
was  ordered  to  that  part  of  the  country  for  the  benefit  of 
my  health. 

The  Vicar,  who  resided  in  another  parish,  thirty  miles 
off,  was  so  eager  to  get  help  for  this  one,  that  he  WTOte  back 
to  say  he  had  sent  my  letter  to  the  Bishop,  with  one  from 
himself,  and  that  I  should  hear  from  his  lordship  in  a  few 
days. 


ORDINATION. 


17 


I  was  surprised  at  this  precipitation  of  affairs,  and  all 
the  more  so  when  I  received  a  note  from  the  Bishop  of 
Exeter  (Phillpotts),  bidding  me  come  to  him  immediately, 
that  I  might  be  in  time  for  the  Lent  ordination. 

Accordingly,  I  started  westward,  and  having  passed  my 
examination,  I  was  sent  with  letters  dimissory  to  the  Bishop 
of  Salisbury  (Denison),  to  whom  I  was  also  sent,  a  year 
afterwards,  for  priest's  orders.  I  was  very  weak,  and  much 
exhausted  with  travelling,  but  still  went  on,  though  I  know 
not  how. 

The  long-desired  day  at  length  arrived,  and  I  was  duly 
ordained  ;  but  instead  of  being  full  of  joy,  I  became  much 
depressed  in  mind  and  body,  and  could  not  rouse  myself 
from  dwelling  upon  the  Bishop's  address,  which  was  very 
solemn.  He  told  us  that  we  were  going  to  take  charge  of 
the  souls  of  our  parishioners,  and  that  God  would  rerjuire 
them  at  our  hands ;  we  must  take  heed  how  we  tended  the 
Lord's  flock.  Altogether,  it  was  more  than  I  had  calcu- 
lated upon ;  and  feeling  very  ill  that  afternoon,  I  thought 
that  I  had  undertaken  a  burden  which  would  certainly  be 
my  ruin.  "  What  could  I  do  with  souls  ?  "  My  idea  of 
ordination  was  to  be  a  clergyman,  read  the  prayers,  preach 
sermons,  and  do  all  I  could  to  bring  people  to  church ;  but 
how  could  I  answer  for  souls  which  had  to  live  for  ever  ? 
and  what  was  I  to  do  with  them  ? 

In  the  evening,  I  so  far  roused  myself  as  to  go  amongst 
the  other  candidates,  to  sound  them,  and  ascertain  what 
were  their  feelings  with  regard  to  the  Bishop's  solemn 
address  !  They  merely  thought  that  it  was  very  beautiful, 
and  that  he  was  a  holy  man ;  and  then  some  of  them  pro- 
posed that  we  should  all  go  in  a  riding  party,  to  see  Stone- 
henge,  the  next  day.  It  was  especially  thought  that  a  drive 
on  the  Wiltshire  plains  would  do  me  a  great  deal  of  good, 
if  I  did  not  feel  strong  enough  to  ride  on  horseback.  I 


i8  FROM  DBA  TH  INTO  LIFE. 

agreed  to  this,  and  went  with  them  to  see  this  famous 
temple  of  Druidical  worship ;  and  after  that  set  off  for 
Plymouth,  on  my  way  to  the  far  west.  But,  alas  !  the 
charm  of  ordination  had  fled,  and  I  was  more  than  half 
sorry  that  I  had  undertaken  so  much.  It  had  been  done 
so  precipitately  too,  for  even  now  it  was  only  ten  days 
since  I  had  seen  the  physician. 

After  resting  a  day,  I  proceeded  to  Truro,  and  then 
took  a  post-chaise  and  drove  out  to  my  first  parish,  called 
Perranzabuloe,  which  was  situated  about  eight  miles  from 
Truro,  on  the  north  coast  of  Cornwall.  I  alighted  at  an 
old  manor  house,  where  I  was  to  have  apartments  with 
a  farmer  and  his  family.  Being  much  fatigued,  I  soon 
retired  to  bed,  anything  but  happy,  or  pleased  with  the 
bleak  and  rough-looking  place  to  which  I  had  come. 

I  slept  well  however,  and  the  next  morning  felt  con- 
siderably better,  and  was  revived  in  spirits.  After  making 
many  inquiries  about  things  in  general,  I  obtained  the  keys, 
and  made  my  way  to  the  parish  church,  which  was  about 
ten  minutes'  walk  from  the  house.  Here,  again,  I  was 
greatly  grieved  and  disappointed  to  see  such  a  neglected 
churchyard  and  dilapidated  church ;  and  when  I  went  in- 
side, my  heart  sank,  for  I  had  never  seen  a  place  of  worship 
in  such  a  miserable  condition.  Moreover,  I  was  told  that 
the  parish  was  seven  miles  long,  and  that  its  large  popula- 
tion of  three  thousand  souls  was  scattered  on  all  sides, 
excepting  round  the  church. 

I  had  left  my  friends  a  long  way  off,  and  was  alone  in  a 
strange  place,  with  an  amount  of  work  and  responsibility 
for  which  I  knew  I  was  thoroughly  unprepared  and  unfit 
However,  I  sauntered  back  to  my  lodgings,  and  began  to 
ruminate  as  to  what  was  to  be  done. 

I  had  now  sole  charge  of  this  extensive  parish,  for  the 
uties  of  which  I  was  to  receive  the  very  moderate  stipend 


M  Y  FIRST  SUNDA  Y. 


19 


of  forty  pounds  a  year ;  but  of  this  I  did  not  complain,  for 
my  board  and  lodging,  with  washing,  and  the  keep  of  a 
horse  included,  was  only  twelve  shillings  a  week,  leaving  me 
a  margin  of  nearly  ten  pounds  for  my  personal  expenses. 
The  questions  that  troubled  me  were — what  was  I  to  do  with 
three  thousand  people  ?  and  how  was  I  to  reach  them  ? 

In  due  course  Sunday  morning  arrived,  and  with  the 
help  of  a  neighbouring  clergyman,  who  kindly  came  over, 
as  he  said,  "to  put  me  in  the  way,"  I  got  through  the 
service  (being  the  only  one  for  the  day  at  that  time),  having 
about  a  score  of  listless  people,  lounging  in  different  parts 
of  the  church,  for  a  congregation.  This  was  my  first  Sunday 
in  my  first  parish. 

Just  at  this  time  a  book  was  sent  me  by  a  kind  friend, 
entitled  "  The  Bishopric  of  Souls,"  which  terrified  me  even 
more  than  the  Bishop's  charge  had  done  ;  for  I  felt  thqt, 
notwithstanding  my  ardent  desire  to  serve  and  glorify  God, 
I  had  not  the  remotest  conception  how  to  do  it,  as  regards 
winning  souls.  The  author  of  this  book  took  it  for  granted 
that  every  one  who  had  the  office  of  a  pastor,  had  also  the 
spiritual  qualification  for  it ;  but  experience  proves  that  this 
is  by  no  means  the  case.  My  ordination  gave  me  an  eccle- 
siastical position  in  the  parish ;  the  law  maintained  me  in  it ; 
and  the  people  expected  me  to  do  the  duties  of  it :  but  how 
to  carry  all  this  out,  except  in  a  dry  and  formal  way,  I  did 
not  know. 

As  time  went  on,  my  parochial  duties  increased.  I  had 
to  baptize  the  children,  marry  the  young,  visit  the  sick,  and 
bury  the  dead  ;  but  I  could  not  help  feeling  how  different 
was  this  in  action,  to  what  it  was  in  theory.  I  had  had  a 
kind  of  dreamland  parish  in  my  head,  with  daily  service, 
beautiful  music,  and  an  assembly  of  worshipping  people ; 
but  instead  of  this,  I  found  a  small,  unsympathizing  con- 
gregation, who  merely  looked  upon  these  sacred  things  as 


20 


FROM  DEA  TH  INTO  LIFE. 


duties  to  be  done,  and  upon  me  as  the  proper  person  to  do 
them.  When  I  went  to  visit  the  sick  I  had  nothing  to  say 
to  them  ;  so  I  read  a  few  Collects,  and  sometimes  gave  them 
a  little  temporal  relief,  for  which  they  thanked  me;  but  I 
came  out  dissatisfied  with  myself,  and  longed  for  something 
more,  though  I  did  not  know  what. 

Notwithstanding  all  these  trials  and  disappointments,  my 
health  was  gradually  improving.  I  found  that  the  air  of  this 
place  was  like  meat  and  drink,  and  gave  me  an  appetite  for 
something  more  substantial.  I  very  often  frequented  the 
beach,  with  its  beautiful  cliffs,  and  was  much  exhilarated  by 
the  bracing  sea  air ;  indeed,  I  had,  and  still  retain,  quite  a 
love  for  the  place.  As  my  strength  and  energ)'  increased,  I 
rode  about  the  parish  all  day,  making  the  acciuaintance  of 
the  people,  and  inviting  them  to  come  to  church. 

.  During  my  visits,  I  found  out  that  the  churchwarden  was 
a  good  musician,  and  that  he  knew  others  in  the  parish  who 
were  able  to  play  on  various  instruments ;  so  in  order  to 
improve  the  services,  and  make  them  more  attractive,  I 
urged  him  to  invite  these  musical  people  to  his  house  to 
practise  ;  and  in  due  course  we  had  a  clarionet,  two  fiddles, 
and  his  bass  viol,  with  a  few  singers  to  form  a  choir.  We 
tried  over  some  metrical  psalms  (for  there  were  no  hymn- 
books  in  those  days),  and  soon  succeeded  in  learning  them. 
This  musical  performance  drew  many  people  to  chuich. 
The  singers  were  undeniably  the  great  attraction,  and 
they  knew  it ;  consequently  I  was  somewhat  in  their  power, 
and  had  to  submit  to  various  anthems  and  pieces,  such  as 
"Vital  Spark,"  '"Angels  Ever  Bright  and  Fair,"  and  others, 
not  altogether  to  my  taste,  but  which  they  evidently  per- 
formed to  their  own  praise  and  satisfaction. 

Finding  that  the  people  were  beginning  to  frequent  the 
church,  I  thought  it  was  time  to  consider  what  steps  should 
be  taken  about  its  restoration,  and  made  it  the  subject  of 


CHURCH  RESTORA  TION. 


21 


conversation  with  the  farmers.  It  awakened  and  alarmed 
many  of  them  when  I  said  that  the  church  must  be  restored, 
and  that  we  must  have  a  church  rate.  The  chief  farmer 
shook  his  head,  saying,  "  You  cannot  carry  that but  I 
repHed,  "  According  to  law,  you  are  bound  to  keep  up  the 
fabric,  and  it  ought  to  be  done.  I  will  write  to  the  Vicar  at 
once  about  it."    He  was  a  non-resident  pluralist. 

The  farmer  smiled  at  that,  and  said,  laughing,  "  I  will 
pledge  myself  that  we  will  do  as  much  as  he  does."  It  so 
happened  that  the  Vicar,  equally  incredulous  about  the 
farmers  doing  anything,  promised  that  he  would  do  one  half, 
if  they  would  do  the  other. 

Having  ascertained  this  to  my  satisfaction,  I  immediately 
sent  for  the  mason  of  the, village,  who  played  the  clarionet 
in  the  church,  also  his  son,  who  was  "one  of  the  fiddles," 
and  consulted  with  them  as  to  how  this  matter  was  to  be 
accomplished.  They,  being  in  want  of  work  at  the  time, 
readily  advised  me  in  favour  of  restoration.  The  church- 
warden (the  "  bass  viol  ")  said  "that  he  had  no  objection 
to  this  proceeding,  but  that  he  would  not  be  responsible. 
In  two  months,"  he  added,  "would  be  the  annual  vestry 
meeting."  "That  will  do,"  I  said,  interrupting  him  ;  and  I 
made  up  my  mind  that  I  would  at  once  restore  the  church, 
and  let  the  parishioners  come  and  see  it  at  that  time. 

Having  made  all  necessary  preparations,  we  commenced 
one  fine  Monday  morning  with  repairing  the  roof  and  walls ; 
and  while  the  men  were  employed  outside,  we  took  out  the 
windows  and  opened  all  the  doors,  to  let  the  wind  blow 
through,  that  the  interior  of  the  building  might  be  tho- 
roughly dried.  This  done,  we  next  coloured  the  walls,  also 
the  stone  arches  and  pillars  (they  were  far  too  much  broken 
to  display  them) ;  and  having  cleaned  the  seats  and  front 
of  the  gallery,  we  stained  and  varnished  them,  matted  the 
floor,  carpeted  the  sacrarium,  and  procured  a  new  cloth  for 


22 


FROM  DEA  TH  INTO  LIFE. 


the  Communion  Table,  and  also  for  the  pulpit  and  reading- 
desk. 

All  this  being  completed,  I  painted  texts  with  my  own 
hands  on  the  walls,  in  old  English  characters.  I  had  great 
joy  in  writing  these,  for  I  felt  as  if  it  was  to  the  Lord  Him- 
self, and  for  His  name,  and  finished  with  Nehemiah's  prayer, 
"  Remember  me,  O  my  God,  concerning  this  ;  and  wipe  not 
out  my  good  deeds  that  I  have  done  for  the  house  of  my 
God,  and  for  the  offices  thereof"  (Neh.  xiii.  14). 

Altogether,  it  was  a  pretty  church  now,  and  a  pretty 
sum  was  to  be  paid  for  it.  I  told  the  vestry  that  I  alone 
was  responsible,  but  that  the  Vicar  had  promised  to  pay  one 
half  if  the  vestry  would  pay  the  other.  It  seemed  to  be 
such  a  joy  to  them  to  get  anything  out  of  him,  that  they 
made  a  rate  at  once ;  and  upon  the  Vicar's  letter,  raised  the 
money  and  paid  off  the  debt 

The  people  were  much  pleased  with  their  church  in  its 
new  aspect,  and  brought  their  friends  and  neighbours  to  see 
it.  Besides  this,  I  observed  something  which  gratified  me 
very  much.  It  was  that  when  they  entered  the  church  they 
did  so  with  reverence,  taking  off  their  hats  and  walking 
softly,  in  place  of  stamping  with  their  heels  and  coming  in 
with  their  hats  on,  as  they  too  often  had  previously  done, 
without  any  respect  or  concern  whatever.  A  neglected 
place  of  worship  does  not  command  reverence. 

My  church  now  began  to  be  the  talk  of  the  neighbour- 
hood. Numbers  of  people  came  to  see  it,  and  among  them 
several  clergymen,  who  asked  me  to  come  and  restore  their 
churches. 

There  were  many  places  where  the  people  could  not 
afford  to  rebuild  the  structure.  In  such,  I  was  invited  to 
exercise  my  skill  in  repairing,  as  I  had  done  with  my  own ; 
in  others,  I  was  asked  to  give  designs  for  restoring  portions 
of  the  edifice ;  and  in  some,  for  rebuilding  altogether. 


THE  "PEEL"  DISTRICTS. 


23 


In  this  district,  schools  were  not  bu'lt  nor  parsonage-houses 
enlarged  without  sending  for  me. 

For  several  years  I  was  looked  upon  as  an  authority  in 
architectural  matters.  I  rode  about  all  over  the  county 
from  north  to  west,  restoring  churches  and  designing  schools, 
and  was  accounted  the  busiest  man  alive  ;  and  my  horse,  my 
dog,  and  myself,  the  "  three  leanest  things  in  creation,"  we 
were  to  be  seen  flying  along  the  roads,  day  and  night,  in  one 
part  or  another. 

The  Bishop  of  Exeter,  who  at  that  time  presided  over 
Cornwall,  appointed  me  to  make  new  "  Peel  "  districts.*  I 
designed  nineteen,  and  made  all  the  maps  myself,  calling  on 
the  Vicars  and  Rectors  for  their  approbation.  I  was  at  this 
time  a  very  popular  man,  and  it  was  said  that  "  the  Bishop's 
best  living  "  would  be  given  to  me  in  due  time. 


•  The  "Peel  "  districts  were  the  new  ecclesiastical  districts  created 
under  Ihe  Church  Extension  Act,  introduced  by  Sir  Robert  Peel. 


CHAPTER  IV. 


Antiquarian  Hescarcljcs  anb  iitxnisir^. 

1843—6. 

NOTHER  thing  which  raised  my  name  in  and 
beyond  the  county  was  the  "Lost  Church"  at 
Perranzabuloe.  There  was  an  old  British  church 
existing  in  some  sand-hills  in  the  parish,  and  it 
was  said  to  be  entire  as  far  as  the  four  walls.  The  hill 
under  which  it  was  buried  was  easily  known  by  the  bones 
and  teeth  which  covered  it  The  legend  said  that  the  patron 
saint,  St.  Piran,  was  buried  under  the  altar,  and  that  close 
by  the  little  church  was  a  cell  in  which  he  lived  and  died. 
This  was  enough.  I  got  men,  and  set  to  work  to  dig  it  up. 
After  some  days'  labour  we  came  to  the  floor,  where  we  dis- 
covered the  stone  seats,  and  on  the  plaster  on  the  wall  the 
greasy  marks  of  the  heads  and  shoulders  of  persons  who 
had  sat  there  many  centuries  ago.  We  found  the  chancel 
step,  and  also  the  altar  tomb  (which  was  built  east  and  west, 
not  north  and  south).  It  was  fallen,  but  enough  remained 
to  show  the  original  shape  and  height  of  it. 

I  put  a  notice  in  the  newspapers,  inviting  people  to  come 
and  see  the  old  church  which  had  been  buried  for  fifteen 
hundred  years  !  In  the  presence  of  many  visitors,  clerical 
and  lay,  we  removed  the  stones  of  the  altar,  and  found  the 


THE  CHURCH  OF  PERRANZABULOE . 


25 


skeleton  of  St.  Piran,  which  was  identified  in  three  waj-s. 
The  legend  said  that  he  was  a  man  seven  feet  high;  the 
skeleton  measured  six  feet  from  the  shoulder-bones  to  the 
heel.  Again,  another  legend  said  that  his  head  was  en- 
shrined in  a  church  forty  miles  away  ;  the  skeleton  corre- 
sponded with  this,  for  it  was  headless.  Moreover,  it  was 
said  that  his  mother  and  a  friend  were  buried  on  either  side 
of  him ;  we  also  found  skeletons  of  a  male  and  female  in 
these  positions.  Being  satisfied  on  this  point,  we  set  the 
masons  to  work  to  rebuild  the  altar  tomb  in  its  original 
shape  and  size,  using  the  same  stones  as  far  as  they  would 
go.    We  made  up  the  deficiency  with  a  heavy  granite  slab. 


On  this  I  traced  with  my  finger,  in  rude  Roman  letters, 
"Sanctus  PiRANUS."  The  mason  would  not  cut  those 
crooked  letters  unless  I  consented  for  him  to  put  his  name 
in  better  ones  in  the  corner.  I  could  not  agree  to  this,  so 
his  apprentice  and  I,  between  us,  picked  out  the  rude 
letters,  which  have  since  (I  have  heard)  been  copied  for  a 
veritable  Roman  inscription. 


26 


FROM  DEA  TH  INTO  LIFE. 


My  name  was  now  up  as  an  antiquary,  and  I  was  asked 
to  be  the  secretary  (for  the  West  of  England)  to  the  Archseo- 
logical  Society.  I  was  supposed  to  be  an  old  gentleman, 
and  heard  myself  quoted  as  the  "venerable  and  respected 
Haslam,"  whose  word  was  considered  enough  to  setde  a 
knotty  point  beyond  doubt.  I  was  invited  to  give  a  lecture 
on  the  old  Perran  Church,  at  the  Royal  Institution,  Truro, 
which  I  did ;  illustrating  ifwith  sketches  of  the  building, 
and  exhibiting  some  rude  remains  of  carving,  which  are  now 
preserved  in  the  museum  there. 

The  audience  requested  me  (through  their  chairman)  to 
print  my  lecture.  This  I  undertook  also ;  but  being  very 
young  in  literary  enterprises,  I  added  a  great  deal  of  other 
matter  to  the  manuscript  which  I  was  preparing  for  the 
press.  There  was  much  in  the  book  *  about  early  Chris- 
tianity and  ecclesiastical  antiquities.  I  imagined  that  this 
parish  was,  in  British  and  Druidic  times,  a  populous  place, 
and  somewhat  important.  There  was  a  "Round,"  or  amphi- 
theatre, for  public  games,  and  four  British  castles ;  also  a 
great  many  sepulchral  mounds  on  the  hills,  the  burial-place 
of  chieftains.  I  supposed  that  St.  Piran  came  here  among 
these  rude  natives  (perhaps  painted  savages)  to  preach  the 
Gospel,  and  then  built  himself  a  cell  f  by  the  sea-shore, 
near  a  spring  or  well,  where  he  baptized  his  converts.  Close 
by,  he  built  this  little  church,  in  which  he  worshipped  God 
and  prayed  for  the  people. 

The  words  of  the  poet  Spenser  do  not  inaptly  describe 
this  scene  of  other  days  : — 

"  A  little,  lowly  hermitage  it  was, 
Downe  in  a  dale — 

Far  from  resort  of  people,  that  did  pas 

•  "  The  Church  of  St.  Piran. "    Published  by  Van  Voorst. 
+  This  little  building  still  remains  entire,  under  the  sand.  Some 
pieces  of  British  pottery  and  limpet-shells  were  found  outside  the  door. 


EARLY  BRITISH  CHURCHES. 


27 


In  traveill  to  ami  fro  :  a  litle  \vyde 

There  was  a  holy  chappell  edifyde, 

Wherein  the  hermite  dewly  wont  to  say 

His  holy  things  each  morn  and  eventyde  ; 

Thereby  a  crystall  streame  did  gently  play, 

Which  from  a  sacred  fountaine  welled  forth  away." 

Here,  then,  more  than  fourteen  centuries  ago,  people 
called  upon  God ;  and  when  their  little  sanctuary  was  over- 
whelmed with  the  sand,  they  removed  to  the  other  side  of 
the  river,  and  built  themselves  another  church ;  but  they 
still  continued  to  bury  their  dead  around  and  above  the 
oratory  and  resting-place  of  St.  Piran. 

When  my  book  was  published,  there  ensued  a  hot 
controversy  about  the  subject  of  it ;  and  some  who  came  to 
see  the  "  Lost  Church  "  for  themselves,  declared  that  it  was 
nothing  more  than  "a  modern  cow-shed  others  would  not 
believe  in  the  antiquity  I  claiined  for  it :  one  of  these  even 
ventured  to  assert  his  opinion  in  print,  that  "  it  was  at  least 
eight  centuries  later  than  the  date  I  had  fixed;"  another 
asked,  in  a  newspaper  letter,  "  How  is  it,  if  this  is  a  church, 
that  there  are  no  others  of  the  same  period  on  record  ?  " 

This  roused  me  to  make  further  research ;  and  I  was 
soon  rewarded  by  finding  in  the  registry  at  Exeter  a  list  of 
ninety-two  churches  existing  in  Cornwall  alone  in  the  time 
of  Edward  the  Confessor,  of  which  Lam-piran  was  one. 
With  the  help  of  another  antiquary,  I  discovered  nine  in 
one  week,  in  the  west  part  of  the  county,  with  foundation 
walls  and  altar  tombs,  of  which  I  published  an  account  in 
the  "  Archceological  Journal."  This  paper  set  other  persons 
to  work,  who  discovered  similar  remains  in  various  parts  of 
the  country ;  and  thus  it  was  proved  to  demonstration  that 
we  had  more  ecclesiastical  antiquities,  and  of  earlier  date, 
than  we  were  aware  of. 

Next,  my  attention  was  directed  to  Cornish  crosses ; 
about  which  I  also  sent  a  paper,  with  illustrations,  as  a  good 


28 


FROM  DEATH  INTO  LIFE. 


secretary  and  correspondent  to  the  same  Journal.  My 
researches  on  this  subject  took  me  back  to  a  very  remote 
time.  I  found  crosses  among  Roman  remains,  with  in- 
scriptions, something  like  those  in  the  Catacombs  near 
Rome— these  were  evidently  Christian ;  but  I  found  crosses 
also  among  Druidic  antiquities.  1  could  not  help  inquiring, 
"  Where  did  the  Druids  get  this  sign  ?  "  From  the  Phoe- 
nicians. "  Where  did  they  get  it  ?  "  From  the  Egyptians. 
"Where  did  they  get  it?"  Then  I  discovered  that  the 
cross  had  come  to  Eg}-pt  with  traditions  about  a  garden,  a 
woman,  a  child,  and  a  serpent,  and  that  the  cross  was  always 
represented  in  the  hand  of  the  second  person  of  their 
trinity  of  gods.  This  personage  had  a  human  mother,  and 
slew  the  serpent  which  had  persecuted  her.* 

Here  was  a  wonderful  discovery  !  The  mythology  of 
Egypt  was  based  on  original  tradition,  handed  down  from 
Antediluvian  times  !  From  further  investigation,  it  was 
evident  that  the  substance  of  Hindoo  mythology  came  from 
the  same  source ;  as  also  that  of  the  Greeks,  Chinese,  Mexi- 
cans, and  Scandinavians.  This  is  how  the  Druids  got  the 
cross  also  :  it  was  in  the  hand  of  their  demi-god  Thor,  the 
second  person  of  their  triad,  who  slew  the  great  serpent 
with  his  famous  hammer,  which  he  bequeathed  to  his 
followers. 

I  was  beside  myself  with  excitement,  and  walked  about 
the  room  in  a  most  agitated  state.  I  then  made  a  table  or 
harmony  of  these  various  mythologies,  and  when  placed 
side  by  side,  it  was  quite  clear  that  they  were  just  one  and 
the  same  story,  though  dressed  up  in  a  variety  of  mytho- 
logical forms,  and  that  the  story  was  none  other  than  that  of 
the  Bible. 

In  my  architectural  journeys  I  used  to  entertain  people 

*  These  traditions  came  to  the  Eg)'ptians  from  an  ancestor  who  had 
come  over  the  flood  with  seven  others. 


CHURCH  PRINCIPLES. 


29 


with  these  wondrous  subjects ;  and  one  evening  I  had  the 
honour  of  agitating  even  the  Bishop  of  Exeter  himself,  who, 
in  his  enthusiasm,  bade  me  write  a  book,  and  dedicate  it  to 
him.  I  did  so.  "  The  Cross  and  the  Serpent  "  is  the  title 
of  it,  and  it  was  duly  inscribed  to  his  lordship. 

It  excites  me  even  now  to  think  about  it,  though  it  is 
thirty-five  years  since  I  made  these  discoveries.  'The  old 
librarian  at  Oxford  declared  that  I  was  mad,  and  yet  he 
could  not  keep  away  from  the  subject,  and  was  never  weary 
of  hearing  something  more  about  it.  This  reverend  Doctor 
said,  "  If  you  are  right,  then  all  the  great  antiquaries  are 
wrong."  I  suggested  that  they  had  not  had  the  advantage 
I  possessed  of  placing  their  various  theories  side  by  side, 
or  of  making  their  observations  from  my  point  of  view. 

Notwithstanding  all  these  external  labours,  which  en- 
grossed my  earnest  and  deep  attention,  I  did  not  neglect 
my  parish.  I  felt,  however,  that  my  parishioners  did  not 
know  anything  about  ecclesiastical  antiquities  or  architec- 
tural science  ;  and  that  they  knew  nothing,  and  cared  less, 
about  Church  teaching.  They  did  not  believe,  with  me, 
that  in  order  to  be  saved  hereafter,  they  ought  to  be  in  the 
Church,  and  receive  the  Holy  Communion — that  there  is 
no  salvation  out  of  the  Church,  and  no  Church  without  a 
Bishop.  They  were  utterly  careless  about  these  things,  and 
from  the  first  had  been  an  unsympathetic  and  unteachable 
people.  I  feel  sure  that  had  it  not  been  for  other  interest- 
ing occupations  which  engaged  my  mind,  I  should  have 
been  altogether  discouraged  with  them. 

I  tried  to  stir  them  up  to  a  zeal  worthy  of  their  ances- 
tors, who  were  such  good  and  loyal  Churchmen,  that  King 
Charles  the  First  wrote  them  a  letter  of  commendation,  and 
commanded  that  it  should  be  put  up  in  all  the  churches. 
I  had  a  copy  of  this  letter  well  painted,  framed,  and  placed 
in  a  conspicuous  part  of  my  church.    Then  I  prepared 


3° 


FROM  DEA  TH  INTO  LIFE. 


an  original  sermon,  which  I  preached,  or  rather  read,  to 
inaugurate  the  royal  letter. 

My  text  was  taken  from  Heb.  xii.  22  —  24,  "Ye  are 
come  unto  Mount  Sion,  and  unto  the  city  of  the  living 
God,  the  heavenly  Jerusalem,  and  to  an  innumerable 
company  of  angels,  to  the  general  assembly  and  church 
of  the  first-born,  which  are  written  in  heaven,  and  to 
God  the  Judge  of  all,  and  to  the  spirits  of  just  men  made 
perfect,  and  to  Jesus  the  mediator  of  the  new  covenant,  and 
to  the  blood  of  sprinkling,  that  speaketh  better  things  than 
that  of  Abel."  I  applied  these  words  to  the  Church  of 
England,  and  rather  reproached  the  Cornish  people  for  not 
being  more  loyal  and  scriptural  ! 

I  think  I  was  more  roused  by  my  sermon  than  any  one 
else ;  and  no  one  asked  me  to  print  it,  but  I  did  for  all  that, 
with  a  copy  of  the  king's  letter.  I  am  sorry  to  say  that  the 
public  did  not  care  sufficiently  about  it  to  buy  copies  enough 
even  to  pay  for  printing. 

It  fell  very  flat,  but  I  attributed  that  to  the  degeneracy 
of  the  times,  and  of  Cornish  people  in  particular.  The  fact 
was,  they  understood  that  text  far  better  than  I  did,  and 
knew  that  "  The  Church  of  the  first-born  "  was  something 
more  spiritual  than  I  had  any  conception  of. 

From  the  commencement  of  my  ministr}'  I  did  not,  as  a 
general  rule,  preach  my  own  sermons,  but  Newman's,  which 
I  abridged  and  simplified,  for  in  that  day  I  thought  them 
most  sound  in  doctrine,  practical,  and  full  of  good  common 
sense.  Indeed,  as  far  as  Church  teaching  went,  they  were, 
to  my  mind,  perfect.  They  stated  doctrines  and  drew 
manifest  conclusions  ;  but  my  people  were  not  satisfied  with 
them  then ;  and  I  can  see  now,  thank  God  !  that,  with  all 
their  excellences,  they  were  utterly  deficient  in  spiritual 
vitality. 

The  author  was  one  whom  I  personally  admired  very 


THE  CHOIR  "  ON  STRH'E."  31 

much,  but  by  his  own  showing,  in  his  "  Apologia,"  he  was  a 
man  who  was  searching  not  for  God,  but  for  a  Church.  At 
length,  when  he  grasped  the  ideal  of  what  a  Church  ought 
to  be,  he  tried  by  the  Oxford  Tracts,  especially  No.  XC,  to 
raise  the  Church  of  England  to  his  standard ;  and  failing 
in  that,  he  became  dissatisfied,  and  went  over  to  the  Church 
of  Rome. 

Once,  when  I  arrived  at  a  friend's  house  in  the  Lake 
district,  I  was  told  that  there  was  a  most  beautiful  view  of 
distant  mountains  to  be  seen  from  my  window.  In  the  morn- 
ing I  lifted  the  blind  to  look,  but  only  saw  an  ordinary  view 
of  green  fields,  hedges,  trees,  and  a  lake.  There  was  no- 
thing else  whatever  to  be  seen.  In  the  course  of  the  day, 
a  heavy  mist  which  had  been  hanging  over  the  lake  was 
dispersed,  and  then  I  saw  the  beautiful  mountains  which 
before  had  been  so  completely  veiled  that  it  was  difficult 
to  believe  in  their  existence. 

So  it  was  with  me.  I  could  see  ecclesiastical  things,  but 
the  more  glorious  view  of  spiritual  realities  beyond  them,  in 
all  their  full  and  vast  expanse,  was  as  yet  hidden. 

Whether  my  extracts  from  Newman's  Sermons  were  more 
pointed,  or  whether  I  became  more  impatient  with  my  con- 
gregation, I  cannot  tell,  but  it  was  very  evident  that  my 
words  were  beginning  to  take  effect  at  last ;  for  as  I  went  on 
preaching  and  protesting  against  the  people  and  against 
schism,  my  "  bass  viol "  called  on  me  one  day,  and  said, 
"  If  you  go  on  preaching  that  doctrine,  you  will  drive  away 
the  best  part  of  your  congregation."  "  Excuse  me,"  I 
answered,  "not  the  best  part;  you  mean  the  kwj/ part." 
"Well,"  he  said,  "you  will  see." 

On  the  following  Sunday,  I  gave  out  my  text,  and  had 
scarcely  read  three  pages  of  my  manuscript  when  I  heard  a 
voice  say,  "Now  we  will  go."  With  this,  the  "bass  viol," 
the  other  fiddles,  the  clarionet,  the  ophicleide,  and  the  choir, 


32 


FROM  DEATH  INTO  LIFE. 


came  stumping  down  the  gallery  stairs,  and  marched  out. 
Some  of  the  congregation  followed  their  example,  with  the 
determination  never  to  come  back  to  the  Church  again.  I 
waited  till  the  noise  was  over,  and  then  went  on  with  my 
sermon  meekly,  and  thought  myself  a  martyr  for  Church 
principles. 

I  little  thought  that  the  people  were  being  mart>Ted ;  yet 
they  were  right,  and  enlightened  in  the  truth,  while  I  was 
altogether  in  the  dark,  and  knew  nothing  about  it  From 
this  time  there  was  a  constant  feud  between  the  parishioners 
and  myself  I  ihoiig/it  that  they  were  schismatics ;  and 
they  knew  that  I  was  unconverted,  and  did  not  preach  the 
Gospel. 

One  day,  a  Dissenter  called  to  pay  a  burial  fee  for  the 
funeral  of  his  child,  which  he  had  purposely  omitted  paying 
at  the  proper  time  because  he  wished  to  tell  me  a  piece  of 
his  mind.  I  was  absent  on  the  occasion  on  some  architec- 
tural or  archcEological  business,  which  was  to  me  all  impor- 
tant. "  I  know,"  he  said,  "  why  you  went  away  and  would 
not  bury  my  child."  "Do  you?"  I  asked.  "Yes;  it  was 
because  I  am  a  Dissenter."  "Oh  !"  I  said,  "I  would  bury 
you  all  to-morrow  if  I  could ;  for  you  are  no  good,  and  can 
do  none  either." 

This  went  round  the  parish  like  wildfire,  and  did  not 
advance  my  popularity,  or  do  my  cause  any  good. 

Seriously  at  this  time  I  thought  that  separation  from  the 
Church  of  England  was  a  most  deadly  sin — it  was  schism. 
Idolatry  and  murder  were  sins  against  the  Mosaic  law ;  but 
this  was  a  sin  against  the  Church.  I  little  dreamt  then 
that  many  of  the  people  with  -whom  I  thus  contended,  and 
whom  I  grieved  so  much,  were  real  spiritual  members  of 
Christ,  and  had  only  ceased  to  be  members  of  the  Church 
of  England  because  I  did  not  preach  the  Gospel ;  that,  in 
fact,  I  was  the  cause  of  their  leaving  the  services ;  that  I 


«  THE  HOUSE  OF  GOD." 


33 


was  the  schismatic,  for  I  was  separated  from  Christ ;  they 
only,  and  that  for  a  good  reason,  had  separated  from  the 
communion  of  the  Church  of  England,  which  I  misrepre- 
sented. 

The  Church  of  England's  teaching  since  the  Reforma- 
tion, like  that  of  the  primitive  Church,  is  based  not  on 
baptism,  but  conversion.  Baptism  was  intended  according 
to  the  Lord's  commandment  (Matt,  xxviii.  19),  for  the  pur- 
pose of  making  disciples*— that  is,  to  graft  members  into  the 
body  of  Christ's  Church  outwardly.  Whatever  special  grace 
is  given  to  infants  and  others  at  baptism,  is  given  upon  the 
condition  of  personal  faith  and  repentance.  Until  a  bap- 
tized person  has  been  enabled  by  the  Holy  Ghost  to  repent 
and  believe  the  Gospel,  he  is  not  really  a  new-born  child  of 
God,  or  raised  from  death  unto  life,  though  nominally,  in 
the  words  of  the  Catechism,  he  has  "been  made  a  child  of 
God." 

Since  the  feuds  and  dissensions  in  my  parish,  the  church 
was  almost  deserted,  and  left  chiefly  to  myself,  my  clerk, 
and  a  few  poor  people,  who,  for  the  most  part,  were  in  ill 
favour  in  the  chapels. 

One  day  I  was  absorbed  in  writing,  or  rather  re-writing, 
a  text  over  the  porch  door  of  the  church.  It  was,  "  I'his  is 
none  other  but  the  house  of  God,  and  this,  is  the  gate  of 
heaven."  A  man  who  was  standing  at  the  foot  of  the  ladder 
said,  "  Heaven  is  a  long  way  from  that  gate,  I  reckon."  I 
pretended  not  to  hear  him,  but  his  speech  stuck  to  me.  I 
knew  only  too  well  from  this,  and  many  other  indications, 
that  the  people  had  no  respect  for  the  church  under  my 
ministrations. 


See  Greek. 


CHAPTER  V. 


1846. 

BOUT  this  time  the  news  reached  us  that  the 


native  but  to  make  arrangements  for  my  departure. 

In  one  sense  I  was  not  sorry  to  go  ;  but  for  various  other 
reasons  I  much  regretted  having  to  leave  a  place  where  my 
health  had  been  so  wonderfully  restored  and  sustained,  and 
in  which  I  had  received  so  many  tokens  of  God's  favour. 
It  is  true  that  my  labours  were  of  an  external  character ;  but 
these  I  thought  most  important,  and  did  them  with  all  my 
might  as  unto  the  Lord.  I  took  the  work  as  from  Him, 
and  did  it  all  to  Him,  and  for  Him,  thanking  Him  for  any 
token  of  success  or  commendation  which  I  received. 

I  also  regretted  leaving  the  place  before  I  had  done  any 
good  to  the  people ;  for,  with  all  my  endeavours,  I  had  not 
succeeded  in  persuading  them  to  receive  my  idea  of  salva- 
tion by  churchmanship. 

However,  the  door  was  shut  behind  me ;  and  this  crisis 
happened  at  the  exact  time  of  another  important  event  in 


Vicar  was  dead ;  and  thus  ended  my  connection 
with  Perranzabuloe.  As  the  Dean  and  Chapter 
would  not  appoint  me  to  succeed,  I  had  no  alter- 


A  T  BALDHU. 


35 


my  life.  I  was  just  engaged  to  be  married,  and  therefore 
had  an  additional  interest  in  looking  for  a  sphere  of  labour 
which  would  suit  me,  and  also  the  partner  of  my  choice, 
who  was  in  every  respect  likely  to  be  an  effectual  helpmeet. 
This  was  soon  found,  and  we  agreed  together  to  give  our- 
selves to  the  Lord's  work  (as  we  thought)  in  it. 

One  of  the  "  Peel "  districts  in  the  neighbourhood  of 
Truro,  which  I  had  designed,  called  Baldhu,  was  on  the 
Earl  of  Falmouth's  estate :  it  came  to  his  lordship's  mind 
to  take  an  interest  in  this  desolate  spot;  so  he  bought 
the  patronage  from  the  commissioners,  and  then  offered  it 
to  me,  to  be  made  into  a  new  parish.  This  I  accepted, 
with  many  thanks,  and  began  immediately  to  dream  out  my 
plans  for  the  future. 

It  was  a  time  of  great  distress  in  that  place  amongst  the 
tenants,  on  account  of  the  failure  of  the  potato  crop  ;  so 
his  lordship  employed  some  hundreds  of  the  men  in  break- 
ing up  the  barren  croft  for  planting  trees ;  there  he  gave 
me  a  good  central  site  for  a  church. 

Now  I  made  up  my  mind  to  have  everything  perfect, 
and  with  my  own  rules  and  regulations,  my  surpliced 
choir,  churchwardens,  and  frequent  services,  all  after  my 
own  heart,  it  could  scarcely  fail  to  be  otherwise.  I  thought 
that,  having  free  scope,  mine  should  be  a  model  place. 
The  district  was  in  a  barren  part  of  a  large  parish  :  three 
thousand  souls  had  been  assigned  to  me ;  and  I  was  to 
go  and  civilize  them,  build  my  church,  school-house,  and, 
indeed,  establish  everything  that  was  necessary. 

To  begin  with,  I  took  a  room  which  was  used  for  a 
village  school  in  the  week,  and  for  a  service  on  Sunday. 
This  succeeded  so  well,  that  in  a  few  months  I  determined 
to  enlarge  the  building  in  which  we  assembled,  as  speedily 
as  possible.  Having  made  all  necessary  plans,  and  pro- 
cured stones,  timber,  and  slate,  we  commenced  operations 


36 


FROM  DBA  TH  INTO  LIFE. 


at  five  o'clock  one  Monday  morning,  and  by  Saturday  night 
had  a  chancel  (which  I  thought  most  necessary)  ready  for 
Sunday  use  ! 

All  the  world  came  to  see  this  sudden  erection.  This 
temporary  church  now  held  three  hundred  people ;  and 
with  the  addition  of  a  new  choir  and  hearty  service,  it 
was  a  great  success,  or,  at  least,  so  I  imagined,  for  in  those 
days  I  did  not  look  for  more. 

I  entered  upon  my  work  here  with  renewed  energy  and 
sanguine  hope.  I  had,  of  course,  gained  more  experience 
in  the  various  duties  of  my  ministry,  and  had,  moreover,  a 
clearer  perception,  as  I  thought,  how  sacramental  teaching, 
under  the  authority  of  the  Church,  ought  to  work.  I 
preached  on  holy  living,  not  conversion,  for  as  yet  I  knew 
nothing  about  the  latter. 

In  1847,  I  went  on  a  visit  to  a  very  remarkable  man, 
who  had  a  great  effect  upon  me  in  many  ways.  He  was  the 
Rev.  Robert  Hawker,  of  Morwenstow,  in  the  extreme  north 
of  Cornwall.* 

This  friend  was  a  poet,  and  a  High  Churchman,  from 
whom  I  learned  many  practical  lessons.  He  was  a  man 
who  prayed,  and  expected  an  answer;  he  had  a  won- 
derful perception  for  realizing  unseen  things,  and  took 
Scripture  literally,  with  startling  effect.  He  certainly  was 
most  eccentric  in  many  of  his  ways ;  but  there  was  a  reality 
and  straightforwardness  about  him  which  charmed  me  very 
much  ;  and  I  was  the  more  drawn  to  him,  from  the  interest 
he  took  in  me  and  my  work. 

He  knew  many  legends  of  holy  men  of  old,  and  said 
that  the  patron  saints  of  West  Cornwall  were  in  the  calendar 
of  the  Eastern  Church,  and  those  in  the  north  of  Cornwall 
belonged  to  the  AVestern.  His  own  patron  saint,  Morwenna, 
was  a  Saxon,  and  his  church  a  Saxon  fane.    He  talked  of 


*  See  his  "  Life,"  by  Rev.  Baring  Gould. 


VISIT  TO  MORWENSTOW. 


37 


these  saints  as  if  he  knew  all  about  them,  and  wrote  of  them 
in  a  volume  of  poems  thus  : — ■ 

"  They  had  their  lodges  in  the  wilderness, 

And  built  them  cells  along  the  shadowy  sea  ; 

And  there  they  dwelt  with  angels  like  a  dream. 

And  filled  the  field  of  the  evangelists 

With  thoughts  as  sweet  as  flowers." 

He  used  to  give  most  thrilling  and  grand  descriptions 
of  the  storms  of  the  Atlantic,  which  broke  upon  the  rocky 
coast  with  gigantic  force,  and  tell  thrilling  stories  of  ship- 
wrecks ;  how  he  saved  the  lives  of  some  of  the  sailors,  and 
how  he  recovered  the  bodies  of  others  he  could  not  save. 
Then,  in  the  churchyard  he  would  show  you — there,  a 
broken  boat  turned  over  the  resting-place  of  some  ;  here, 
two  oars  set  up  crosswise  over  several  others;  and  in 
another  part  the  figure-head  of  a  ship,  to  mark  the  spot 
where  the  body  of  a  captain  was  buried. 

The  Vicarage  house  was  as  original  as  himself.  Over 
the  door  was  inscribed — 

"  A  house,  a  glebe,  a  pound  a  day  ; 
A  pleasant  place  to  watch  and  pray. 
Be  true  to  Church,  be  kind  to  poor, 
O  minister,  for  evermore  !  " 

The  interior  was  furnished  with  old-fashioned  heavy 
furniture,  and  the  outside  was  conspicuous  for  its  remarkable 
chimneys,  which  were  finished  off  as  models  of  the  towers 
of  churches  where  he  had  served.  The  kitchen  chimney, 
which  was  oblong,  perplexed  him  very  much,  till  (as  he  said) 
"  I  bethought  me  of  my  mother's  tomb ;  and  there  it  is,  in 
its  exact  shape  and  dimensions  1 " 

He  had  daily  service  in  his  church,  generally  by  himself, 
when  he  prayed  for  the  people.  "  I  did  not  want  them 
there,"  he  said.  "  God  hears  me  ;  and  they  know  when  I 
am  praying  foi  them,  for  I  ring  the  bell." 


38 


FROM  DBA  TH  INTO  LIFE. 


He  had  much  influence  in  his  parish,  chiefly  amongst 
the  poor,  and  declared  that  his  people  did  whatever  he  told 
them.  They  used  to  bring  a  bunch  of  flowers  or  ever- 
greens every  Sunday  morning,  and  set  them  up  in  their 
pew  ends,  where  a  proper  place  was  made  to  hold  them. 
The  whole  church  was  seated  with  carved  oak  benches, 
which  he  had  bought  from  time  to  time  from  other  churches, 
when  they  were  re-pewed  with  "  deal  boxes  !  " 

On  the  Sunday,  1  was  asked  to  help  him  in  the  service, 
and  for  this  purpose  was  arrayed  in  an  alb,  plain,  which  was 
just  like  a  cassock  of  white  linen.  As  I  walked  about  in 
this  garb,  I  asked  a  friend,  "How  do  you  like  it?"  In  an 
instant  I  was  pounced  upon,  and  grasped  sternly  on  the  arm 
by  the  Vicar.  "'Like'  has  nothing  to  do  with  it;  is  it 
right  ?  "  He  himself  wore  over  his  alb  a  chasuble,  which 
was  amber  on  one  side  and  green  on  the  other,  and  was 
turned  to  suit  the  Church  seasons  ;  also  a  pair  of  crimson- 
coloured  gloves,  which,  he  contended,  were  the  proper 
sacrificial  colour  for  a  priest. 

I  had  very  little  to  do  in  the  service  but  to  witness  his 
proceedings,  which  I  observed  with  great  attention,  and 
even  admiration.  His  preaching  struck  me  very  much  ;  he 
used  to  select  the  subject  of  his  sermon  from  the  Gospel  of 
the  day  all  through  the  year.  This  happened  to  be  "  Good 
Samaritan  Sunday,"  so  we  had  a  discourse  upon  the  "certain 
man  who  went  down  from  Jerusalem  to  Jericho"  in  which 
he  told  us  that  "  the  poor  wounded  man  was  Adam's  race ; 
the  priest  who  went  by  was  the  Patriarchal  dispensation ; 
the  Levite,  the  Mosaic;  and  the  good  Samaritan  represented 
Christ ;  the  inn  was  the  Church ;  and  the  twopence,  the 
Sacraments." 

He  held  up  his  manuscript  before  his  face,  and  read  it 
out  boldly,  because  he  "  hated,"  as  he  said,  "  those  fellows 
who  read  their  sermons,  and  all  the  time  pretended  to  preach 


REV.  ROBERT  HAWKER. 


39 


them and  he  especially  abhorred  those  w  ho  secreted 
notes  in  thejr  Bibles  :  "  Either  have  a  book,  sir,  or  none  !  " 

He  had  a  great  aversion  to  Low  Church  clergymen,  and 
told  me  that  his  stag  Robin,  who  ranged  on  the  lawn,  had 
the  same ;  and  that  once  he  pinned  one  of  them  to  the 
ground  between  his  horns.  The  poor  man  cried  out  in 
great  fear ;  so  he  told  Robin  to  let  him  go,  which  he  did,  but 
stood  and  looked  at  the  obnoxious  individual  as  if  he  would 
like  to  have  him  down  again  and  frighten  him,  though  he 
would  not  hurt  him — "Robin  was  kind-hearted." 

"This  Evangelical,"  he  continued,  "had  a  tail  coat;  he 
was  dressed  like  an  undertaker,  sir.  Once  upon  a  time 
there  was  one  like  him  travelling  in  Egypt,  with  a  similar 
coat  and  a  tall  hat ;  and  the  Arabs  pursued  him,  calling  him 
the  '  father  of  saucepans,  with  a  slit  tail.' "  This  part  of  his 
speech  was  evidently  meant  for  me,  for  I  wore  a  hat  and 
coat  of  this  description,  finding  it  more  convenient  for  the 
saddle,  and  for  dining  out  when  I  alighted. 

He  persuaded  me  to  wear  a  priestly  garb  like  his,  and 
gave  me  one  of  his  old  cassocks  for  a  pattern ;  this  I 
succeeded  in  getting  made  to  my  satisfaction,  after  consider- 
able difficulty. 

I  came  back  to  my  work  full  of  new  thoughts  and  plans, 
determined  to  do  what  was  "  right ;"  and  this  in  spite  of  all 
fears,  whether  my  own,  or  those  of  others. 

I  now  began  to  think  more  of  the  reality  of  prayer,  and 
of  the  meaning  of  the  services  of  the  Church  ;  I  empha- 
sized my  words,  and  insisted  upon  proper  teaching.  I  also 
paid  more  attention  to  my  sermons,  having  hitherto  disre- 
garded them;  for,  as  I  said,  "the  Druids  never  preached; 
they  only  worshipped" 

I  held  up  my  manuscript  and  read  my  sermon,  like  Mr. 
Hawker ;  and  I  wore  a  square  cap  and  cassock,  instead  of 
the  "saucepan"  and  the  "tails."  This  costume  I  continued 
3 


40 


FROM  DEATH  INTO  LIFE. 


to  wear  for  several  years,  though  I  was  frequently  laughed 
at,  and  often  pursued  by  boys,  which  was  not  agreeable  to 
flesh  and  blood;  but  it  helped  to  separate  me  from  the 
world,  and  to  make  me  feel  that  I  was  set  apart  as  a  priest 
to  offer  sacrifice  for  the  people. 

In  course  of  time  I  began  to  make  preparations  for  my 
permanent  church.  I  drew  the  designs  for  it,  passed  them, 
and  obtained  money  enough  to  begin  to  build.  There  was 
a  grand  ceremony  at  the  stone-laying,  and  a  long  procession. 
We  had  banners,  chanting,  and  a  number  of  surpliced  clergy, 
besides  a  large  congregation. 

The  Earl  of  Falmouth,  who  laid  the  stone,  contributed  a 
thousand  pounds  towards  the  edifice ;  his  mother  gave  throe 
hundred  pounds  for  a  peal  of  bells  ;  and  others  of  the 
gentry  who  were  present  contributed ;  so  that  upwards  of 
eighteen  hundred  pounds  was  promised  that  day.  Just 
twelve  months  after,  July  20,  1848,  the  same  company,  with 
many  others,  and  the  Bishop  of  Exeter  (Phillpotts)  came  to 
consecrate  the  "beautiful  church." 

In  the  meantime,  between  the  stone-laying  and  the  con- 
secration, the  Parsonage  house  had  been  built,  and,  more 
than  that,  it  was  even  papered,  furnished,  and  inhabited  ! 
Besides  all  this,  there  was  a  garden  made,  and  a  doorway, 
after  an  ecclesiastical  mode,  leading  into  the  churchyard, 
with  this  inscription  over  it : — 

"  Be  true  to  Church, 
Be  kind  to  poor, 
O  minister,  for  evermore." 

In  this  church  there  were  super-altar,  candles,  triptych, 
and  also  a  painted  window ;  organ,  choir,  and  six  bells ;  so 
that  for  those  days  it  was  considered  a  very-  complete  thing. 
"The  priest  of  Baldhu,"  with  his  cassock  and  square  cap, 
was  quite  a  character  in  his  small  way.    He  preached  in  a 


A  CHURCH  GUILD. 


41 


surplice,  of  course,  and  propounded  Church  tactics,  firmly 
contending  for  Church  teaching.  The  Wesleyans  and  others 
had  their  distinctive  tenets,  the  Church  must  have  hers; 
they  had  their  members  enrolled,  the  Church  must  have  hers; 
therefore  he  would  have  a  "  guild,"  with  the  view  of  keeping 
his  people  together.  Outwardly  there  was  an  esprit  de  corps, 
and  the  parishioners  came  to  church,  and  took  an  interest 
in  the  proceedings  ;  but  it  was  easy  to  see  that  their  hearts 
were  elsewhere.  Still  I  went  on,  hoping  against  hope, 
"  building  from  the  top  "  without  any  foundation,  teaching 
people  to  live  before  they  were  born  ! 


CHAPTER  VI. 


1848—51. 

HE  more  earnestly  I  wrought  among  the  people, 
and  the  better  I  knew  them,  the  more  I  saw  that 
the  mere  attachment  to  the  Church,  and  punctual 
attendance  at  the  services  or  frequency  of  Com- 
munion, was  not  sufficient.  I  wanted  something  deeper.  I 
wanted  to  reach  their  hearts  in  order  to  do  them  good. 

Whether  this  desire  sprang  up  in  the  ordinary  progress 
by  which  God  was  imperceptibly  leading  me,  or  from  a  story 
I  heard  at  a  clerical  meeting,  I  know  not — perhaps  from 
both.  My  mind  was  evidently  as  ground  prepared  to 
receive  the  warning.  The  story  was  about  a  dream  a 
clergj'man  had.  He  thought  the  judgment-day  was  come, 
and  that  there  was,  as  it  were,  a  great  visitation — greater 
than  the  Bishop's.  The  clergy  were  mustering,  and  appeared 
in  their  gowns,  but  instead  of  being  alone,  they  had  part  of 
their  congregations  with  them.  Some  had  a  few  followers, 
others  had  more,  and  some  a  great  many ;  and  all  these 
received  a  gracious  smile  from  the  Judge  when  their  names 
were  called.  The  clergyman  who  dreamed  was  waiting,  as 
he  supposed,  with  a  large  number  of  people  at  his  back. 


CONFESSION  AND  ABSOLUTION.  43 


When  his  turn  came  he  went  forward;  but  as  he  approached, 
he  saw  that  the  Judge's  countenance  was  sad  and  dark.  In 
a  sudden  impulse  of  suspicion  he  looked  back ;  and  lo  ! 
there  was  no  one  behind  him.  He  stopped,  not  daring  to 
go  any  further,  and  turning  to  look  at  the  Judge,  saw  that 
His  countenance  was  full  of  wrath.  This  dream  had  such 
an  effect  upon  him  that  he  began  to  attend  to  his  parish  and 
care  for  the  souls  of  his  people. 

I  also  was  beginning  to  see  that  I  ought  to  care  for  the 
souls  of  my  people — at  least,  as  much  as  I  did  for  the  ser- 
vices of  the  Church.  As  a  priest,  I  had  the  power  (so  I 
thought)  to  give  them  absolution:  and  yet  none,  alas!  availed 
themselves  of  the  opportunity.  How  could  they  have  for- 
giveness if  they  did  not  come  to  me  ?  This  absolution  I 
believed  to  be  needful  before  coming  to  Holy  Communion, 
and  that  it  was,  indeed,  the  true  preparation  for  that  sacred 
ordinance.  I  used  to  speak  privately  to  the  members  of  the 
Church  Guild  about  this,  and  persuaded  some  of  them  to 
come  to  me  for  confession  and  absolution ;  but  I  was  rest- 
less, and  felt  that  I  was  doing  good  by  stealth.  Besides 
this,  those  whom  I  thus  absolved  were  not  satisfied,  for  they 
said  they  could  not  rejoice  in  the  forgiveness  of  their  sins 
as  the  Methodists  did,  or  say  that  they  were  pardoned.  In 
this  respect  I  was  working  upon  most  tender  ground,  but  I 
did  not  know  what  else  to  do. 

I  used  to  spend  hours  and  hours  in  my  church  alone  in 
meditation  and  prayer;  and,  while  thinking,  employed  my 
hands  in  writing  texts  over  the  windows  and  on  the  walls, 
and  in  painting  ornamental  borders  above  the  arches.  I 
remember  writing  over  the  chancel  arch,  with  much  interest 
and  exultation,  "  Now  is  come  salvation,  and  strength,  and 
the  kingdom  of  our  God,  and  the  power  of  His  Christ " 
(Rev.  xii.  lo). 

I  imagined,  in  my  sanguine  hope,  that  the  kingdom  of 


44 


FROM  DEA  TH  INTO  LIFE. 


Christ  was  come,  and  that  the  "  accuser  of  the  brethren " 
was  cast  down.  I  thought  I  saw,  in  the  power  of  Christ 
given  to  His  priests,  such  victory  that  nothing  could  stand 
against  it.  So  much  for  dweUing  on  a  theory,  right  or 
wrong,  till  it  fills  the  mind.  Yet  I  cannot  say  that  all  this 
was  without  prayer.  I  did  wait  upon  God,  and  thought  my 
answers  were  from  Him ;  but  I  see  now  that  I  went  to  the 
Lord  with  an  idol  in  my  heart,  and  that  He  answered  me 
according  to  it  (Ezek.  xiv.  3). 

One  day  I  saw  a  picture  in  a  friend's  house  which 
attracted  me  during  the  time  I  was  waiting  for  him.  It  was 
nothing  artistic,  nor  was  it  over  well  drawn,  but  still  it 
engaged  my  attention  in  a  way  for  which  I  could  not 
account.  When  my  friend  came  down,  we  talked  about 
other  things;  but  even  after  I  left  the  house  this  picture 
haunted  me.  At  night  I  lay  awake  thinking  about  it — so 
much  so,  that  I  rose  early  the  next  morning,  and  went  to  a 
bookseller's  shop,  where  I  bought  a  large  sheet  of  tracing- 
paper  and  pencil,  and  sent  them  out  by  the  postman,  with  a 
note  to  my  friend,  begging  him  to  give  me  a  tracing  of  the 
picture  in  question. 

I  had  to  wait  for  more  than  a  fortnight  before  it  arrived, 
and  then  how  great  was  my  joy  !  I  remember  spreading  a 
white  cloth  on  my  table,  and  opening  out  the  tracing-paper 
upon  it ;  and  there  was  the  veritable  picture  of  the  Good 
Shepherd  !  His  countenance  was  loving  and  kind.  AVith 
one  hand  He  was  pushing  aside  the  branch  of  a  tree,  though 
a  great  thorn  went  right  through  it ;  and  with  the  other  He 
was  extricating  a  sheep  which  was  entangled  in  the  thorns. 
The  poor  thing  was  looking  up  in  helplessness,  all  spotted 
over  with  marks  of  its  own  blood,  for  it  was  wounded  in 
struggling  to  escape.  Another  thing  which  struck  me  in  this 
picture  was  that  the  tree  was  growing  on  the  edge  of  a  pre- 
cipice, and  had  it  not  been  for  it  (the  tree),  with  all  the 


BAPTISM. 


45 


cruel  wounds  it  inflicted,  the  sheep  would  have  gone  over 
and  perished. 

After  considering  this  picture  for  a  long  time,  I  painted 
it  in  a  larger  size  on  the  wall  of  my  church,  just  opposite 
the  entrance  door,  so  that  every  one  who  came  in  might  see 
it.  I  cannot  describe  the  interest  with  which  I  employed 
myself  about  this  work ;  and  when  it  was  done,  finding  that 
it  wanted  a  good  bold  foreground,  I  selected  a  short  text — 
"  He  came  to  seek  and  to  save  that  which  was  lost." 

God  was  speaking  to  me  all  this  time  about  the  Good 
Shepherd  who  gave  His  life  for  me ;  but  I  did  not  hear 
Him,  or  suspect  that  I  was  lost,  or  caught  in  any  thorns,  or 
hanging  over  a  precipice  ;  therefore,  I  did  not  apply  the 
subject  to  myself.  Certainly,  I  remember  that  my  thoughts 
dwelt  very  much  on  forgiveness  and  salvation,  but  I 
preached  that  these  were  to  be  had  in  and  by  the  church, 
which  was  as  the  Ark  in  which  Noah  was  saved.  Baptism 
was  the  door  of  this  Ark,  and  Holy  Communion  the  token 
of  abiding  in  it ;  and  all  who  were  not  inside  were  lost. 
What  would  become  of  those  outside  the  Church  was  a 
matter  which  greatly  perplexed  me.  I  could  not  dare  to 
say  that  they  would  be  lost  for  ever ;  but  where  could  they 
be  now?  and  what  would  become  of  them  hereafter?  I 
longed  to  save  John  Bunyan ;  but  he  was  such  a  determined 
schismatic  that  it  was  impossible  to  make  out  a  hope  for 
him  !  Sometimes  I  was  cheered  by  the  thought  that  he  had 
been  duly  baptized  in  infancy,  and  that  his  after-life  was  one 
of  ignorance  ;  but  this  opened  the  door  too  wide,  and  made 
my  theory  of  salvation  by  the  Church  a  very  vague  and  un- 
certain thing.  So  deeply  was  the  thought  engrained  in  my 
mind  that  one  day  I  baptized  myself  conditionally  in  the 
Church,  for  fear  that  I  had  not  been  properly  baptized  in 
infancy,  and  consequently  should  be  lost  hereafter.  I  had 
no  idea  that  I  was  lost  now ;  far  from  that,  I  thought  I  was 


46 


FROM  DEATH  INTO  LIFE. 


as  safe  as  the  Church  herself,  and  that  the  gates  of  hell 
could  not  prevail  against  me. 

I  had  many  conversations  with  the  earnest  people  in  my 
parish,  but  they  were  evidently  resting,  not  where  I  was,  but 
on  something  I  did  not  know.  One  very  happy  woman  told 
me,  "Ah  !  you  went  to  college  to  lam  the  Latin;  but  though 
I  don't  know  a  letter  in  the  Book,  yet  I  can  read  my  title 
clear  to  mansions  in  the  skies."  Another  woman,  whenever 
I  went  to  see  her,  made  me  read  the  story  of  her  conver- 
sion, which  was  written  out  in  a  copybook.  Several  others, 
men  and  women,  talked  to  me  continually  about  their  "con- 
version. I  often  wondered  what  that  was ;  but,  as  I  did 
not  see  much  self  denial  among  these  converted  ones,  and 
observed  that  they  did  not  attend  God's  House  nor  ever 
come  to  the  Lord's  table,  I  thought  conversion  could  not  be 
of  much  consequence,  or  anything  to  be  desired. 

I  little  knew  that  I  was  the  cause  of  their  remaining 
away  from  church,  and  from  the  Lord's  table.  One  thought- 
ful man  told  me,  "  Cornish  people  are  too  enlightened  to  go 
to  church  !  A  man  must  give  up  religion  to  go  there ;  only 
unconverted  people  and  backshders  go  to  such  a  place  !  " 
Yet  this  was  a  prayerful  man.  What  did  he  mean  ?  At 
various  clerical  meetings  I  used  to  repeat  these  things,  but 
still  obtained  no  information  or  satisfaction. 

I  made  it  a  rule  to  visit  every  house  in  my  parish  once  a 
week,  taking  from  twelve  to  twenty  each  day,  when  I  sought 
to  enlighten  the  people  by  leaving  Church  tracts,  and  even 
wrote  some  myself ;  but  they  would  not  do.  I  found  that 
the  Religious  Tract  Society's  publications  were  more  accept- 
able. To  my  great  disappointment,  I  discovered,  too,  that 
Evangelical  sermons  drew  the  people,  while  sacramental 
topics  did  not  interest  them.  So,  in  my  ardent  desire  to 
reach  and  do  them  good,  I  procured  several  volumes  of 
Evangelical  sermons,  and  copied  them,  putting  in  some- 


ON  PREACHING. 


47 


times  a  negative  to  their  statements,  to  make  them,  as  I 
thought,  right. 

Now  I  began  to  see  and  feel  that  there  was  some  good 
in  preaching,  and  used  the  pulpit  intentionally,  in  order  to 
communicate  with  my  people,  carefully  writing  or  compiling 
my  sermons.  But  I  must  confess  that  I  was  very  nervous 
in  my  delivery,  and  frequently  lost  my  place — sometimes 
even  myself;  and  this  to  the  great  confusion  of  the  con- 
gregation. 

I  will  tell  how  it  pleased  the  Lord  to  deliver  me  from 
this  bondage  of  nervousness,  and  enable  me  to  open  my 
lips  so  as  to  plainly  speak  out  my  meaning. 

One  day,  a  friend  with  whom  I  was  staying  was  very 
late  in  coming  down  to  breakfast ;  so,  while  I  was  waiting,  I 
employed  myself  in  reading  the  "  Life  of  Bishop  Shirley,"  of 
Sodor  and  Man.  My  eyes  happened  to  fall  on  a  passage, 
describing  a  difficulty  into  which  he  fell  by  losing  his  sermon 
on  his  way  to  a  country  church.  When  the  prayers  were 
over,  and  the  psalm  was  nearly  sung,  he  put  his  hand  into 
his  pocket  for  his  manuscript,  and,  to  his  dismay,  it  was 
gone.  There  was  no  time  to  continue  his  search ;  so  he 
gave  out  a  text,  and  preached,  as  he  said,  in  dependence 
upon  God,  and  never  wrote  a  sermon  afterwards. 

When  my  friend  came  to  breakfast,  he  asked  me  what  I 
had  been  doing  all  the  morning.  I  told  him.  "  Ah  !  "  he 
said,  quietly,  "  why  do  you  not  preach  in  dependence  upon 
God,  and  go  without  a  book  like  that  good  man?"  "I 
preach  like  that  ! "  I  said,  in  amazement,  terrified  at  the 
very  thought.  "Yes,"  he  answered,  mischievously,  "you. 
Who  needs  to  depend  upon  God  for  this  more  than  you 
do?"  Seeing  that  I  was  perturbed  at  his  suggestion,  he 
went  on  teasing  me  all  breakfast  time,  and  at  last  said 
"  Well,  what  is  your  decision  ?  Do  you  mean  to  preach  in 
future  in  dependence  upon  God?"    I  said,  "Yes;  I  have 


48 


FROM  DEATH  INTO  LIFE. 


made  up  my  mind  to  begin  next  Sunday."  Now  it  was  his 
turn  to  be  terrified,  and  he  did  all  he  could  to  dissuade 
me,  saying,  "  You  will  make  a  fool  of  yourself!"  "No  fear 
of  that,"  I  replied ;  "  I  do  it  already ;  I  cannot  be  worse. 
No ;  I  will  begin  next  Sunday  ! " 

I  came  back  with  the  determination  to  keep  my  pro- 
mise, but  must  confess  that  I  grew  more  and  more  uneasy 
as  the  time  approached.  However,  on  Sunday,  I  went  up 
into  the  pulpit,  and  spoke  as  well  as  I  could,  without  any 
notes,  and  found  it  far  easier  than  I  had  feared.  In  the 
evening  it  was  still  easier;  and  so  I  continued,  week  by 
week,  gaining  more  confidence,  and  have  never  written  a 
sermon  since  that  day — that  is,  to  preach  it.  Once  I  was 
tempted  to  take  a  book  up  into  the  pulpit,  feeling  I  had 
nothing  to  say,  when  something  said  to  me,  "  Is  that  the 
way  you  depend  upon  God  ? "  Immediately  I  put  the 
volume  on  the  floor,  and  standing  on  it,  gave  out  my  text, 
and  preached  without  hesitation.  This  going  forward  in 
dependence  upon  God  has  been  a  deliverance  to  me  from 
many  a  difficulty  besides  this  one,  and  that  through  many 
years. 

One  day  I  went,  in  my  cassock  and  cap,  to  the  shop  of 
a  man  whom  I  regarded  as  a  dreadful  schismatic.  He  sold 
the  publications  of  the  Religious  Tract  Society.  On  enter- 
ing, he  appeared  greatly  pleased  to  see  me,  and  took 
unusual  interest  and  pains  in  selecting  tracts,  giving  me  a 
double  portion  for  my  money.  His  kindness  was  very 
embarrassing ;  and  when,  on  leaving,  he  followed  me  to 
the  door,  and  said  "  God  bless  you  ! "  it  gave  me  a  great 
turn.  A  schismatic  blessing  a  priest !  This,  indeed,  was 
an  anomaly.  I  was  ashamed  to  be  seen  coming  out  of  the 
shop,  and  the  more  so,  because  I  had  this  large  Evangelical 
parcel  in  my  hand,  I  felt  as  though  everybody  was  looking 
at  me.    However,  the  tracts  were  very  acceptable  at  home, 


BERRIDGE  'S  EXPERIENCE. 


49 


and  in  the  parish.  I  even  began  to  think  there  was  some- 
thing good  in  them.    So  I  sent  for  more. 

Three  men,  one  after  another,  told  me  that  they  had 
been  converted  through  reading  them.  One  of  these  said 
that  "the  tract  I  had  given  him  ought  to  be  written  in 
letters  of  gold;"  and  a  few  months  after,  this  same  man  died 
most  happily,  rejoicing  in  the  Lord,  and  leaving  a  bright 
testimony  behind.  I  mentioned  the  conversion  of  these 
three  men  to  many  of  my  friends,  and  asked  them  for  some 
explanation,  but  got  none.  Still,  the  thought  continually 
haunted  me — "  What  can  this  conversion  be  ?  " 

I  had  made  it  a  custom  to  pray  about  what  I  had  to  do, 
and  anything  I  could  not  understand ;  therefore  I  prayed 
about  this.  Just  then  (I  believe,  in  answer  to  prayer)  a 
friend  offered  to  lend  me  Southey's  "  Life  of  Wesley,"  and 
said,  "  You  will  find  it  all  about  conversion ; "  and  a  few 
days  after  came  a  tract,  "John  Berridge's  Great  Error 
Detected."  This  tract  was  carefully  marked  with  pencil, 
and  had  several  questions  written  in  the  margin.  I  found 
out  that  it  came  from  a  person  to  whom  I  had  given  it,  and 
who  was  anxious  to  know  its  meaning. 

I  read  it  with  much  interest,  for  I  saw  that  the  first 
portion  of  the  history  of  Berridge  corresponded  with  mine ; 
but  as  I  went  on  reading,  I  wondered  what  he  could  mean 
by  "  Justification."  What  was  that  wonderful  thing  which 
God  did  for  him  and  for  the  souls  of  his  people  ?  What  could 
he  mean  by  having  his  eyes  opened  to  see  himself  a  wretched, 
lost  man  ?  What  was  "  seeing  the  way  of  salvation"  ?  He 
said  that  he  had  preached  for  six  years,  and  never  brought 
a  single  soul  to  Christ ;  and  for  two  years  more  in  another 
place,  and  had  no  success;  but  now,  when  he  preached 
Christ  instead  of  the  Church,  people  came  from  all  parts, 
far  and  near,  to  hear  the  sound  of  the  glorious  Gospel ; 
and  believers  were  added  to  the  Church  continually.  I 


FROM  DEATH  INTO  LIFE. 


grappled  with  this  subject ;  but  I  could  not,  by  searching, 
find  out  anything,  for  I  was  in  the  dark,  and  knew  not  as 
yet  that  I  was  blind,  and  needed  the  power  of  the  Holy 
Spirit  to  awaken  and  bring  me  to  see  myself  a  lost  sinner. 
My  soul  was  now  all  astir  on  this  subject ;  but,  as  far  as  I 
can  remember,  I  wanted  the  information — not  for  myself; 
but  because  I  thought  I  should  then  get  hold  of  the  secret 
by  which  the  Wesleyans  and  others  caught  and  kept  their 
people,  or  rather  my  people. 

Soon  after,  my  gardener,  a  good  Churchman,  and  duly 
despised  by  his  neighbours  for  attaching  himself  to  me  and 
my  teaching,  fell  seriously  ill.  I  sent  him  at  once  to  the 
doctor,  who  pronounced  him  to  be  in  a  miner's  consump- 
tion, and  gave  no  hope  of  his  recovery.  No  sooner  did  he 
realize  his  position,  and  see  eternity  before  him,  than  all  the 
Church  teachihg  I  had  given  him  failed  to  console  or  satisfy, 
and  his  heart  sank  within  him  at  the  near  prospect  of  death. 
In  his  distress  of  mind,  he  did  not  send  for  me  to  come  and 
pray  with  him,  but  actually  sent  for  a  converted  man,  who 
lived  in  the  next  row  of  cottages.  This  man,  instead  of 
building  him  up  as  I  had  done,  went  to  work  in  the  oppo- 
site direction— to  break  him  down ;  that  was,  to  show  my 
servant  that  he  was  a  lost  sinner,  and  needed  to  come  to 
Jesus  just  as  he  was,  for  pardon  and  salvation.  He  was 
brought  under  deep  conviction  of  sin,  and  eventually  found 
peace  through  the  precious  blood  of  Jesus. 

Immediately  it  spread  all  over  the  parish  that  "  the  par- 
son's servant  was  converted."  The  news  soon  reached  me, 
but,  instead  of  giving  joy,  brought  the  most  bitter  disap- 
pointment and  sorrow  to  my  heart.  Such  was  the  profound 
ignorance  I  was  in  ! 

The  poor  man  sent  for  me  several  times,  but  I  could  not 
make  up  my  mind  to  go  near  him.  I  felt  far  too  much  hurt 
to  think  that  after  all  I  had  taught  him  against  schism,  he 


THE  HAPPY  GARDENER. 


51 


should  fall  into  so  great  an  error.  However,  he  sent  again 
and  again,  till  at  last  his  entreaties  prevailed,  and  I  went. 
Instead  of  lying  on  his  bed,  a  dying  man,  as  I  expected  to 
find  him,  he  was  walking  about  the  room  in  a  most  joyful 
and  ecstatic  state.  "  Oh,  dear  master  !  "  he  exclaimed,  "  I 
am  glad  you  are  come  !  I  am  so  happy  !  My  soul  is  saved, 
glory  be  to  God  !"  "Come,  John,"  I  said,  "  sit  down  and 
be  quiet,  and  I  will  have  a  talk,  with  you,  and  tell  you  what 
I  think."  But  John  knew  my  thoughts  quite  well  enough, 
so  he  burst  out,  "  Oh,  master  !  I  am  sure  you  do  not  know 
about  this,  or  you  ivoiild  have  told  me.  I  am  quite  sure 
you  love  me,  and  I  love  you — that  I  do  !  but,  dear  master, 
you  do  not  know  this — I  am  praying  for  the  Lord  to  show 
it  to  you.  I  mean  to  pray  till  1  die,  and  after  that  if  I  can, 
till  you  are  converted."  He  looked  at  me  so  lovingly,  and 
seemed  so  truly  happy,  that  it  was  more  than  I  could  stand. 
Almost  involuntarily,  I  made  for  the  door,  and  escaped 
before  he  could  stop  me. 

I  went  home  greatly  disturbed  in  my  mind — altogether 
disappointed  and  disgusted  with  my  work  among  these 
Cornish  people.  "  It  is  no  use ;  they  will  never  be  Church- 
men ! "  I  was  as  hopeless  and  miserable  as  I  could  be.  I 
felt  that  my  superior  teaching  and  practice  had  failed,  and 
that  the  inferior  and,  as  I  believed,  unscriptural  dogmas  had 
prevailed.  My  favourite  and  most  promising  Churchman 
had  fallen,  and  was  happy  in  his  fall ;  more  than  that,  he 
was  actually  praying  that  I  might  fall  too  ! 

I  was  very  jealous  for  the  Church,  and  therefore  felt 
deeply  the  conversion  of  my  gardener.  Like  the  elder 
brother  of  the  Prodigal  Son,  I  was  grieved,  and  even  angry, 
because  he  was  restored  to  favour  and  joy.  The  remon- 
.  strance  of  the  father  prevailed  nothing  to  mollify  his  feel- 
ings ;  in  like  manner,  nothing  seemed  to  give  me  any  rest 
in  this  crisis  of  my  parochial  work.    I  thought  I  would  give 


52 


FROM  DEATH  INTO  LIFE. 


up  my  parish  and  church,  and  go  and  work  in  some  more 
congenial  soil ;  or  else  that  I  would  preach  a  set  of  sermons 
on  the  subject  of  schism,  for  perhaps  I  had  not  sufficiently 
taught  my  people  the  danger  of  this  great  sin  ! 

Every  parishioner  I  passed  seemed  to  look  at  me  as  if 
he  said,  "So  much  (oi your  teaching  !  You  will  never  con- 
vince us  I " 


CHAPTER  VII. 


1851. 

IHIS  was  a  time  of  great  disappointment  and  dis- 
couragement.   Everything  had  turned  out  so 
different  to  the  expectation  I  had  formed  and 
cherished  on  first  coming  to  this  place.    I  was 
then  full  of  hope,  and  intended  to  carry  all  before  me  with 
great  success,  and  I  thought  I  did ;  but,  alas  !  there  was  a 
mistake  somewhere,  something  was  wrong. 

In  those  days,  when  I  was  building  my  new  church,  and 
talking  about  the  tower  and  spire  we  were  going  to  erect, 
an  elderly  Christian  lady  who  was  sitting  in  her  wheel-chair, 
calmly  listening  to  our  conversation,  said,  "  Will  you  begin 
to  build  your  spire  from  the  top  ? "  *  It  was  a  strange 
question,  but  she  evidently  meant  something,  and  looked 
for  an  answer.  I  gave  it,  saying,  "  No,  madam,  not  from 
the  top,  but  from  the  foundation."  She  replied,  "  That  is 
right — that  is  right,"  and  went  on  with  her  knitting. 

This  question  was  not  asked  in  jest  or  in  ignorance ;  it 
was  like  a  riddle.  What  did  she  mean  ?  In  a  few  years 
this  lady  passed  away,  but  her  enigmatic  words  remained. 


•  See  Tract,  "  Building  from  the  Top,"  by  Rev.  W.  Haslam. 


54 


FROM  DEA  TH  INTO  LIFE. 


No  doubt  she  thought  to  herself  that  I  was  beginning  at  the 
wrong  end,  while  I  went  on  talking  of  the  choir,  organ, 
happy  worship,  and  all  the  things  we  were  going  to  attempt 
in  the  new  church ;  that  I  was  aiming  at  sanctification, 
without  justification  ;  intending  to  teach  people  to  be  holy 
before  they  were  saved  and  pardoned.  This  is  exactly  what 
I  was  doing.  I  had  planted  the  boards  of  my  tabernacle  of 
worship,  not  in  silver  sockets  (the  silver  of  which  had  been 
paid  for  redem[)tion),  but  in  the  sand  of  the  wilderness. 
In  other  words,  I  was  teaching  people  to  worship  God,  who 
is  a  Spirit,  not  for  love  of  Him  who  gave  His  Son  to  die  for 
them,  but  in  the  fervour  and  enthusiasm  of  human  nature. 
My  superstructure  was  built  on  sand  ;  and  hence  the  con- 
tinual disappointment,  and  that  last  discouraging  overthrow. 
No  wonder  that  my  life  was  a  failure,  and  my  labours  inef- 
fectual, inasmuch  as  my  efforts  were  not  put  forth  in  faith. 
My  work  was  not  done  as  a  thank-offering,  but  rather  as  a 
meritorious  effort  to  obtain  favour  from  God. 

Repentance  towards  God,  however  earnest  and  sincere, 
without  faith  towards  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  is  not  complete 
or  satisfying.  There  may  be  a  change  of  mind  and  will, 
producing  a  change  of  actions,  which  are  done  in  order  to 
pacify  conscience,  and  to  obtain  God's  favour  in  return  ;  but 
this  is  not  enough.  It  is  like  preparing  the  ground  without 
sowing  seed,  and  then  being  disappointed  that  there  is  no 
harvest.  A  garden  is  not  complete  or  successful  unless  the 
ground  has  been  properly  prepared,  nor  unless  flourishing 
plants  are  growing  in  it 

Repentance  with  faith,  the  two  together,  constitute 
the  fulness  of  God's  religion.  We  have  to  believe,  not  in 
the  fact  that  we  have  given  ourselves — we  know  this  in 
our  own  consciousness — but  in  the  fact  that  God,  who  is 
more  willing  to  take  than  we  to  give,  has  accepted  us.  We 
rejoice  and  work,  not  as  persons  who  have  surrendered  our- 


«  YOU  ARE  NOT  CONVER TED  /  "  55 

selves  to  God,  but  out  of  loving  gratitude,  as  those  who 
have  been  changed  by  Him  to  this  end. 

I  will  go  on  now  to  tell  how  \  was  brought  at  this 
critical  period  of  my  life  to  real  faith  towards  our  Lord 
Jesus  Christ.  This  was  done  in  a  way  I  knew  not,  and 
moreover,  in  a  way  I  little  expected.  I  had  promised  a 
visit  to  Mr.  Aitken,  of  Pendeen,  to  advise  him  about  his 
church,  which  was  then  building ;  and  now,  in  order  to 
divert  my  thoughts,  I  made  up  my  mind  to  go  to  him  at 
once.  Soon  after  my  arrival,  as  we  were  seated  comfortably 
by  the  fire,  he  asked  me  (as  he  very  commonly  did)  how 
the  parish  prospered.  He  said,  "  I  often  take  shame  to 
myself  when  I  think  of  all  your  work.  But,  my  brother, 
are  you  satisfied?" 

I  said,  "  No,  I  am  not  satisfied."  * 

"  Why  not  ?  " 

"  Because  I  am  making  a  rope  of  sand,  which  looks 
very  well  till  I  pull,  and  then,  when  I  expect  it  to  hold,  it 
gives  way." 

"What  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"Why,"  I  replied,  "these  Cornish  people  are  ingrained 
schismatics." 

I  then  told  him  of  my  gardener's  conversion,  and  my 
great  disappointment. 

"  Well,"  he  said,  "  if  I  were  taken  ill,  I  certainly  would 
not  send  for  you.  I  am  sure  you  could  not  do  me  any 
good,  for  you  are  not  converted  yourself" 

"  Not  converted  ! "  I  exclaimed.    "  How  can  you  tell  ?  " 

He  said,  quietly,  "  I  am  sure  of  it,  or  you  would  not 
have  come  here  to  complain  of  your  gardener.  If  you  had 
been  converted,  you  would  have  remained  at  home  to 
rejoice  with  him.    It  is  very  clear  you  are  not  converted  ! " 


*  See  Tract,  "Are  you  Satisfied  ?  "  by  Rev.  W.  Haslam. 


56 


FROM  DEATH  INTO  LIFE. 


I  was  vexed  with  him  for  saying  that,  and  attempted  to 
dispute  the  point ;  but  he  was  calm  and  confident ;  while  I, 
on  the  other  hand,  was.  uneasy,  and  trying  to  justify  myself. 

In  the  course  of  our  conversation,  he  said,  "You  do 
not  seem  to  know  the  difference  between  the  natural  con- 
science and  the  work  of  the  Spirit."  Here  he  had  me,  for 
I  only  knew  of  one  thing,  and  he  referred  to  two.  How- 
ever, we  battled  on  till  nearly  two  o'clock  in  the  morning, 
and  then  he  showed  me  to  my  bed-room.  Pointing  to  the 
bed,  he  said  (in  a  voice  full  of  meaning),  "  Ah  !  a  very  holy 
man  of  God  died  there  a  short  time  since."  This  did  not 
add  to  my  comfort  or  induce  sleep,  for  I  was  already  much 
disturbed  by  the  conversation  we  had  had,  and  did  not 
enjoy  the  idea  of  going  to  bed  and  sleeping  where  one  had 
so  lately  died— even  though  he  was  a  holy  man.  Resolving 
to  sit  up,  I  looked  round  the  room,  and  seeing  some  books 
on  the  table,  took  up  one,  which  happened  to  be  Hare's 
"Mission  of  the  Comforter."  Almost  the  first  page  I 
glanced  at  told  of  the  difference  between  the  natural 
conscience  and  the  work  of  the  Spirit.  This  I  read  and 
re-read  till  I  understood  its  meaning. 

The  next  morning,  as  soon  as  breakfast  was  finished,  I 
resumed  the  conversation  of  the  previous  night  with  the 
additional  light  I  had  gained  on  the  subject.  We  had  not 
talked  long  before  Mr.  Aitken  said,  "  Ah,  my  brother,  you 
have  changed  your  ground  since  last  night ! " 

I  at  once  confessed  that  I  had  been  reading  Hare's 
book,  which  he  did  not  know  was  in  my  room,  nor  even  in 
the  house.    He  was  curious  to  see  it. 

He  then  challenged  me  on  another  point,  and  said, 
"  Have  you  peace  with  God  ?  "  I  answered,  without  hesi- 
tation, "Yes," — for,  for  eight  years  or  more  I  had  regarded 
God  as  my  Friend.  Mr.  A.  went  on  to  ask  me,  "  How  did 
you  get  peace  ?  "    "  Oh,"  I  said,  "  I  have  it  continually.  I 


THE  LIVING  WATER. 


57 


get  it  at  the  Daily  Service,  I  get  it  through  prayer  and 
reading,  and  especially  at  the  Holy  Communion.  I  have 
made  it  a  rule  to  carry  my  sins  there  every  Sunday,  and 
have  often  come  away  from  that  holy  sacrament  feeling  as 
happy  and  free  as  a  bird."  My  friend  looked  surprised, 
but  did  not  dispute  this  part  of  my  experience.  He  con- 
tented himself  by  asking  me  quietly,  "  And  how  long  does 
your  peace  last  ?  "  This  question  made  me  think.  I  said, 
"  I  suppose,  not  a  week,  for  I  have  to  do  the  same  thing 
every  Sunday."    He  replied,  "  /  thought  so." 

Opening  the  Bible,  he  found  the  fourth  chapter  of  St. 
John,  and  read,  "  Whosoever  drinketh  of  this  water  shall 
thirst  again."  "The  woman  of  Samaria  drew  water  for  her- 
self at  Jacob's  well,  and  quenched  her  thirst ;  but  she  had 
to  come  again  and  again  to  the  same  well.  She  had  no  idea 
of  getting  water,  except  by  drawing,  any  more  than  you 
have  of  getting  peace  excepting  through  the  means  you  use. 
The  Lord  said  to  her,  '  If  thou  knewest  the  gift  of  God, 
and  who  it  is  that  saith  to  thee,  Give  me  to  drink ;  thou 
wouldest  have  asked  of  Him,  and  He  would  have  given  thee 
living  water,'  which  should  be  '  a  well  of  water  springing 
up  into  everlasting  life  '  "  (John  iv.  lo — 14).  My  friend 
pointed  out  the  difference  between  getting  water  by  draw- 
ing from  a  well,  and  having  a  living  well  within  you 
springing  up. 

I  said,  "  I  never  heard  of  such  a  thing." 

"  I  suppose  not,"  he  answered. 

"  Have  you  this  living  water  ?  "  I  continued. 

"  Yes,  thank  God,  I  have  had  it  for  the  last  thirty  years." 

"  How  did  you  get  it  ?  " 

"Look  here,"  he  said,  pointing  to  the  tenth  verse: 
"  Thou  wouldest  have  asked  of  Him,  and  He  would  have 
given  thee  living  water." 

"  Shall  we  ask  Him  ?  "  I  said. 


58 


FROM  DEA  TH  INTO  LIFE. 


He  answered,  "  With  all  my  heart ; "  and  immediately 
pushing  back  his  chair,  knelt  down  at  his  round  table,  and 
I  knelt  on  the  opposite  side.  What  he  prayed  for  I  do  not 
know.  I  was  completely  overcome,  and  melted  to  tears. 
I  sat  down  on  the  ground,  sobbing,  while  he  shouted  aloud, 
praising  God. 

As  soon  as  I  could  get  up,  I  made  for  the  door,  and 
taking  my  hat,  coat,  and  umbrella,  said  that  "  I  was  really 
afraid  to  stay  any  longer."  With  this  I  took  my  departure, 
leaving  my  carpet-bag  behind.  It  was  seven  miles  to 
Penzance,  but  in  my  excitement  I  walked  and  ran  all  the 
way,  and  arrived  there  before  the  coach,  which  was  to  have 
called  for  me,  but  brought  my  carpet-bag  instead.  In  the 
meantime,  while  I  was  waiting  for  it,  I  saw  a  pamphlet,  by 
Mr.  Aitken,  in  a  shop  window,  which  I  bought,  and  got 
into  the  train  to  return  to  Baldhu.  My  mind  was  in  such 
a  distracted  state,  that  I  sought  relief  in  reading.  I  had 
not  long  been  doing  so,  when  I  came  to  a  paragraph  in 
italics  :  "  Then  shall  He  say  utito  them,  Depaii  from  Afe  ;  I 
never  knew  you."  The  question  arrested  me,  What  if  He 
says  that  to  you  ? 

Ah,  that  is  not  likely. 

But,  what  if  He  does  ? 

It  cannot  be.  I  have  given  up  the  world ;  I  love  God ; 
I  visit  the  sickj  I  have  daily  service  and  weekly  com- 
munion. 

But,  what  if  He  does  ? — what  if  He  does  ? 

I  could  not  bear  the  thought ;  it  seemed  to  overwhelm 

me. 

As  I  read  the  pamphlet,  I  saw  that  the  words  were  spoken 
to  persons  who  were  taken  by  surprise.  So  should  I  be. 
They  were  able  to  say,  "We  have  eaten  and  drunk  in  Thy 
presence,  and  Thou  hast  taught  in  our  streets :  in  Thy 
name  we  have  cast  out  devils,  and  done  many  wonderful 


A  TROUBLED  MIND. 


59 


works."  Yet,  with  all  this,  He  replied,  "  Depart  from  Me, 
I  never  knew  you."  I  did  not  see  how  I  could  escape,  if 
such  men  as  these  were  to  be  rejected. 

Conviction  was  laying  hold  upon  me,  and  the  circle 
was  becoming  narrower.  The  thought  pressed  heavily  upon 
me,  "  What  a  dreadful  thing,  if  I  am  wrong  ! "  Added  to 
this,  I  trembled  to  think  of  those  I  had  misled.  "  Can  it 
be  true  ?  Is  it  so  ?  "  I  remembered  some  I  had  watched 
over  most  zealously,  lest  the  Dissenters  should  come  and 
pray  with  them.  I  had  sent  them  out  of  the  world  resting 
upon  a  false  hope,  administering  the  sacrament  to  them  for 
want  of  knowing  any  other  way  of  bringing  them  into  God's 
favour.  I  used  to  grieve  over  any  parishioner  who  died 
without  the  last  sacrament,  and  often  wondered  how  it 
would  fare  with  Dissenters  ! 

My  mind  was  in  a  revolution.  I  do  not  remember  how 
I  got  home.  I  felt  as  if  I  were  out  on  the  dark,  boundless 
ocean,  without  light  or  oar  or  rudder.  I  endured  the 
greatest  agony  of  mind  for  the  souls  I  had  misled,  though 
I  had  done  it  ignorantly.  "They  are  gone,  and  lost  for 
ever  !  "  I  justly  deserved  to  go  also.  My  distress  seemed 
greater  than  I  could  bear.  A  tremendous  storm  of  wind, 
rain  and  thunder,  which  was  raging  at  the  time,  was  quite 
in  sympathy  with  my  feelings.  I  could  not  rest.  Looking 
at  the  graves  of  some  of  my  faithful  Churchmen,  I  won- 
dered, "  Is  it  really  true  that  they  are  now  cursing  me  for 
having  misled  them  ?  " 

Thursday,  Friday,  and  Saturday  passed  by,  each  day 
and  night  more  dark  and  despairing  than  the  preceding 
one.  On  the  Sunday,  I  was  so  ill  that  I  was  quite  unfit  to 
take  the  service.  Mr.  Aitken  had  said  to  me,  "  If  I  were 
you,  I  would  shut  the  church,  and  say  to  the  congregation, 
'  I  will  not  preach  again  till  I  am  converted.  Pray  for  me !' " 
Shall  I  do  this  ? 


6o 


FROM  DEATH  INTO  LIFE. 


The  sun  was  shining  brightly,  and  before  I  could  make 
up  my  mind  to  put  off  the  service,  the  bells  struck  out  a 
merry  peal,  and  sent  their  summons  far  away  over  the  hills. 
Now  the  thought  came  to  me  that  I  would  go  to  church 
and  read  the  morning  prayers,  and  after  that  dismiss  the 
people.  There  was  no  preparation  for  the  Holy  Com- 
munion that  day,  and  I  had  deputed  the  clerk  to  select 
the  hymns,  for  I  was  far  too  ill  to  attend  to  anything  myself. 
The  psalms  and  hymns  were  especially  applicable  to  my 
case,  and  seemed  to  help  me,  so  that  I  thought  I  would  go 
on  and  read  the  ante-communion  service,  and  then  dismiss 
the  people.  And  while  I  was  reading  the  Gospel,  I  thought, 
well,  I  will  just  say  a  few  words  in  explanation  of  this,  and 
then  I  will  dismiss  them.  So  I  went  up  into  the  pulpit  and 
gave  out  my  text.  I  took  it  from  the  Gospel  of  the  day — 
"What  think  ye  of  Christ?"  (Matt.  xxii.  42). 

As  I  went  on  to  explain  the  passage,  I  saw  that  the 
Pharisees  and  scribes  did  not  know  that  Christ  was  the  Son 
of  God,  or  that  He  was  come  to  save  them.  They  were 
looking  for  a  king,  the  son  of  David,  to  reign  over  them  as 
they  were.  Something  was  telling  me,  all  the  time,  "  You 
are  no  better  than  the  Pharisees  yourself — you  do  not 
believe  that  He  is  the  Son  of  God,  and  that  He  is  come  to 
save  you,  any  more  than  they  did."  I  do  not  remember 
all  I  said,  but  I  felt  a  wonderful  light  and  joy  coming  into 
my  soul,  and  I  was  beginning  to  see  what  the  Pharisees  did 
not.  Whether  it  was  something  in  my  words,  or  my  man- 
ner, or  my  look,  I  know  not ;  but  all  of  a  sudden  a  local 
preacher,  who  happened  to  be  in  the  congregation,  stood 
up,  and  putting  up  his  arms,  shouted  out  in  Cornish  manner, 
"  The  parson  is  converted  !  the  parson  is  converted  ! 
Hallelujah  ! "  *  and  in  another  moment  his  voice  was  lost 


•  This  scene  is  well  depicted  in  the  accompanying  Illustration. 


"THE  PARSON'S  CONVERTED/"  6i 

in  the  shouts  and  praises  of  three  or  four  hundred  of 
the  congregation.  Instead  of  rebuking  this  extraordinary 
"brawling,"  as  I  should  have  done  in  a  former  time,  I 
joined  in  the  outburst  of  praise  ;  and  to  make  it  more 
orderly,  I  gave  out  the  Doxology — "  Praise  God,  from 
whom  all  blessings  flow " — and  the  people  sang  it  with 
heart  and  voice,  over  and  over  again.  My  Churchmen 
were  dismayed,  and  many  of  them  fled  precipitately  from 
the  place.  Still  the  voice  of  praise  went  on,  and  was  swelled 
by  numbers  of  passers-by,  who  came  into  the  church, 
greatly  surprised  to  hear  and  see  what  was  going  on. 

When  this  subsided,  I  found  at  least  twenty  people 
crying  for  mercy,  whose  voices  had  not  been  heard  in  the 
excitement  and  noise  of  thanksgiving.  They  all  professed 
to  find  peace  and  joy  in  believing.  Amongst  this  number 
there  were  three  from  my  own  house;  and  we  returned 
home  praising  God. 

The  news  spread  in  all  directions  that  "  the  parson  was 
converted,"  and  that  by  his  own  sermon,  in  his  own  pulpit ! 
The  church  would  not  hold  the  crowds  who  came  in  the 
evening.  I  cannot  exactly  remember  what  I  preached 
about  on  that  occasion ;  but  one  thing  I  said  was,  "  that  if 
I  had  died  last  week  I  should  have  been  lost  for  ever."  I 
felt  it  was  true.  So  clear  and  vivid  was  the  conviction 
through  which  I  had  passed,  and  so  distinct  was  the  light 
into  which  the  Lord  had  brought  me,  that  I  knew  and  was 
sure  that  He  had  "  brought  me  up  out  of  an  horrible  pit, 
out  of  the  miry  clay,  and  set  my  feet  upon  a  Rock,  and 
put  a  new  song  into  my  mouth"  (Ps.  xl.).  He  had  "quick- 
ened "  me,  who  was  before  "  dead  in  trespasses  and  sins  " 
(Eph.  ii.  i). 

I  felt  sure,  as  I  said;  that  if  I  had  died  last  week  I 
should  have  been  lost  for  ever.  This  was  a  startling  and 
an  alarming  word  to  many  of  my  earnest  people,  who  said, 


62 


FROM  DBA  TH  INTO  LIFE. 


"What  then  will  become  of  us?"  I  replied,  "You  will  be 
lost  for  a  certainty  if  you  do  not  give  your  hearts  to  God." 

At  the  end  of  this  great  and  eventful  day  of  my  life — 
my  spiritual  birthday,  on  which  I  passed  from  death  to  life 
by  being  "  born  from  above  " — I  could  scarcely  sleep  for 
joy.  I  awoke  early  the  next  morning,  with  the  impression 
on  my  mind  that  I  must  get  up  and  go  to  a  village  a  mile 

off,  to  tell  James  B  of  my  conversion.    He  was  a  good 

and  holy  man,  who  had  often  spoken  to  me  about  my  soul ; 
and  had  been  praying  for  three  years  or  more  on  my 
behalf. 

I  had  scarcely  gone  half-way  before  I  met  him  coming 
towards  me  :  he  seemed  as  much  surprised  to  see  me  as  I 
was  to  meet  him.  He  looked  at  me  in  a  strange  way,  and 
then,  leaning  his  back  against  a  stone  fence,  he  said,  "  Are 
you  converted  ?  " 

"  Why  do  you  ask  me  ?  "  I  replied.  "  I  am  just  on  my 
way  to  your  house,  to  tell  you  the  good  news — that  I  have 
found  peace.    My  soul  is  saved." 

The  dear  man  said,  "  Thank  God  ! "  and  it  came  from 
the  very  depths  of  his  heart.  Shedding  tears  of  joy,  he  went 
on  to  say,  "  This  night  I  woke  up  thinking  of  you ;  you 
were  so  strongly  in  my  mind,  that  I  got  up  and  began  to 
pray  for  you ;  but  I  could  not  '■get  JiolJ:'  I  wrestled  and 
cried  aloud,  but  it  was  all  of  no  avail ;  I  begged  the  Lord 
not  to  give  you  up ;  but  it  seemed  I  could  not  pray. 
After  trying  for  more  than  two  hours,  it  came  to  my  mind 
that  perhaps  jiw<  7t.<ere  converted.  This  thought  made  me  so 
happy,  that  I  began  to  praise  the  Lord ;  and  then  I  had 
liberty,  and  shouted  so  loud  that  it  roused  up  the  whole 
house,  and  they  came  rushing  into  my  room  to  know  what- 
ever was  the  matter  with  me.  '  L  am  praising  God,'  I  said ; 
'  praising  God — the  parson  is  converted  ! — I  feel  sure  he  is. 
Glory  be  to  God  !    Glory  be  to  God  I '    They  said,  '  You 


"77-  IS  TRUEl 


63 


must  be  dreaming ;  you  had  better  lie  down  again,  and  be 
quiet.'  But  it  was  of  no  use,  I  could  not  sleep ;  and  so 
soon  as  the  light  began  to  break,  I  dressed  myself,  and 
have  come  out  to  see  whether  it  is  true." 

"  Yes,"  I  said,  "  it  is  true  ;  the  Lord  has  saved  my  soul ; 
I  am  happy  ! "  I  thanked  him  then  and  there  for  all  the 
help  he  had  been,  and  for  the  patience  he  had  so  long 
exercised  towards  me.  We  spent  a  happy  time  together, 
thanking  and  praising'  God,  and  then  he  returned  home  to 
tell  his  friends  and  neighbours  the  news. 

After  breakfast  a  visitor  arrived,  who  was  on  an  errand 
of  quite  another  kind.  The  report  had  by  this  time  spread 
far  and  wide,  that  I  was  converted  in  my  own  pulpit,  and 
by  means  of  my  own  sermon ;  also,  that  I  had  said,  "  If 
I  had  died  last  week,  I  should  have  been  lost  for  ever ! " 
My  friend  having  heard  this,  immediately  mounted  his 
horse  and  rode  over  to  see  me  about  it.  He  at  once  put 
the  question,  "  Did  you  say,  last  night,  in  your  pulpit,  that 
you  were  saved;  and  that  if  you  had  died  last  week  you 
would  have  been  lost  for  ever?" 

I  answered,  "  Yes,  indeed,  I  did ;  and  I  meant  it." 

He  looked  quite  bewildered,  and  stood  for  a  long  time 
arguing  with  me  ;  then  taking  a  chair  he  sat  down,  and 
began  to  sympathize  and  pity  me,  saying  how  grieved  he 
was,  for  he  could  see  madness  in  my  eyes.  He  tried  to 
divert  my  thoughts,  and  begged  that  I  would  go  out  for  a 
ride  with  him.  Seeing  that  he  made  no  impression  by  his 
various  arguments,  and  that  he  could  not  prevail  upon  me 
to  recall  my  words,  he  ordered  his  horse;  but  before 
mounting,  he  said,  "  I  cannot  agree  with  you,  and  will 
oppose  you  as  hard  as  I  can." 

"  Very  well,"  I  replied  ;  "  but  let  us  shake  hands  over  it : 
there  is  no  need  that  we  should  be  angry  with  one  another.'' 
4 


64 


FROM  DEA  TH  INTO  LIFE. 


Then  mounting,  he  started  off,  and  had  not  gone  more 
than  a  few  yards,  when,  suddenly  pulling  up,  he  turned, 
and  placing  his  hand  on  the  back  of  his  horse,  called  out, 
"  Haslam,  God  stop  the  man  who  is  wrong ! " 

I  answered,  "Amen,"  and  off  he  trotted. 

On  the  Friday  following  he  broke  a  blood-vessel  in  his 
throat  or  chest,  and  has  never  preached  since.  His  life  was 
in  danger  for  several  weeks,  though  in  course  of  time  he 
recovered,  but  I  have  heard  that  he  has  never  been  able  to 
speak  above  a  whisper.  God  has  most  undoubtedly  stopped 
him ;  while  He  has  permitted  me  to  preach  for  the  last  nine- 
and-twenty  years,  on  the  average  more  than  six  hundred 
times  a  year. 

From  that  time  I  began  to  preach  the  Gospel,  and  was 
not  ashamed  to  declare  everywhere  what  the  Lord  had  done 
for  my  soul.  Thus  from  personal  experience  I  have  been 
enabled  to  proclaim  the  Word,  both  as  a  "  witness "  and  a 
"  minister." 

I,  who  before  that  time  used  to  be  so  weak,  that  I  could 
not  preach  for  more  than  fifteen  or  twenty  minutes  for  three 
consecutive  Sundays  without  breaking  down,  was  now  able 
to  do  so  each  day,  often  more  than  once,  and  three  times 
every  Sunday. 


CHAPTER  VIIL 


1851—4. 

N  the  providence  of  God,  my  conversion  was  the 
beginning  of  a  great  revival  work  in  my  parish, 
which  continued  without  much  interruption  for 
nearly  three  years.  At  some  periods  during  that 
time  there  was  a  greater  power  of  the  divine  presence,  and 
consequently  more  manifest  results,  than  at  others ;  but  all 
along  there  were  conversions  of  sinners  or  restoration  of 
backsliders  every  week — indeed,  almost  every  day. 

I  was  carried  along  with  the  torrent  of  the  work,  far 
over  and  beyond  several  barriers  of  prejudice  which  had 
been  in  my  mind.  For  instance,  I  made  a  resolution  that 
if  I  ever  had  a  work  of  God  in  my  parish,  it  should  be 
according  to  rule,  and  that  people  should  not  be  excited 
into  making  a  noise,  as  if  God  were  deaf  or  afar  off;  also, 
that  I  would  prevent  their  throwing  themselves  into  extra- 
ordinary states  of  mind  and  body,  as  though  it  were  neces- 
sary that  they  should  do  so  in  order  to  obtain  a  blessing. 
I  intended  to  have  everything  in  most  beautiful  and  exem- 
plary order,  and  that  all  should  be  done  as  quietly  and  with 
as  much  precision  as  the  working  of  a  machine.  No 


66 


FROM  DEATH  INTO  LIFE. 


shouting  of  praises, no  loud  praying,  no  hearty  responding; 
and,  above  all,  no  extravagant  crying  for  mercy,  such  as  I 
had  witnessed  in  Mr.  Aitken's  parish. 

But  notwithstanding  my  prudence  and  judicious  resolu- 
tions, "  the  wind  blew  as  it  listed ;  we  heard  the  sound 
thereof,  but  could  not  tell  whence  it  came,  or  whither  it 
went"  (John  iii.  8).  In  spite  of  all  my  prejudices,  souls  were 
quickened  and  born  of  the  Spirit.  I  was  filled  with  rejoic- 
ing, and  my  heart  overflowed  with  joy  to  see  something 
doing  for  the  Lord. 

Anything  is  better  than  the  stillness  of  death,  however 
aesthetic  and  beautiful,  however  reverential  and  devout  a 
mere  outward  ceremonial  may  appear.  Imposing  pageants 
and  religious  displays  may  excite  enthusiastic  religiosity 
or  devotionism ;  but  they  do  not,  and  never  can,  promote 
spiritual  vitality.  Far  from  this,  they  draw  the  heart  and 
mind  into  a  channel  of  human  religion,  where  it  can  some- 
times overflow  to  its  own  satisfaction  ;  but  they  never  bring 
a  sinner  to  see  himself  lost,  or  unworthy  by  nature  to  be  a 
worshipper,  and  consequently,  as  such,  utterly  unfit  to  take 
any  part  in  religious  ceremonies. 

On  the  Monday  after  my  conversion  we  had  our  first 
week-day  revival  service  in  the  church,  which  was  filled 
to  excess.  In  the  sermon,  I  lold  them  once  more  that 
God  had  "  brought  me  up  out  of  an  horrible  pit,  out  of 
the  miry  clay,  and  set  my  feet  upon  the  Rock,  and  .  .  .  put 
a  new  song  in  my  mouth  "  (Ps.  xl.  2 — 3).  I  had  not 
spoken  long,  when  some  one  in  the  congregation  gave  a 
shriek,  and  then  began  to  cry  aloud  for  mercy.  This  was 
quickly  followed  by  cries  from  another  and  another,  until 
preaching  was  altogether  hopeless.  We  then  commenced 
praying  for  those  who  were  in  distress,  and  some  experienced 
men  who  were  present  dealt  with  the  anxious. 

I  cannot  tell  how  many  people  cried  for  mercy,  or  how 


THE  PRESENCE  OF  THE  LORD. 


67 


many  found  peace  that  night ;  but  there  was  great  rejoic- 
ing. I,  who  was  still  in  my  grave-clothes,  though  out  of 
the  grave,  was  sorely  offended  at  people  praying  and  prais- 
ing God  so  heartily  and  so  loudly  in  the  church.  I  thought 
that  if  this  was  to  become  a  regular  thing,  it  would  be  akin 
to  "brawling,"  and  quite  out  of  order.  Practising  singing 
and  rehearsing  anthems  in  the  church,  I  did  not  think 
much  about ;  but  somehow,  for  people  to  cry  out  in  distress 
of  soul,  and  to  praise  God  out  of  the  abundance  of  their 
hearts,  was  too  much  for  me.    I  was  sadly  perplexed  ! 

At  the  close  of  the  service,  I  told  the  people  I  would 
have  a  short  one  again  the  next  evening,  in  the  church,  and 
that  after  that  we  would  go  into  the  schoolroom  for  the 
prayer-meeting.  Thus  ended  the  second  day  of  my  spiritual 
life. 

On  Tuesday  evening  we  assembled  in  the  church, 
and  then  went  to  the  schoolroom  for  the  after-meeting. 
There  the  people  had  full  liberty  to  sing,  praise,  and 
shout  too,  if  they  desired,  to  their  hearts'  content,  and 
truly  many  availed  themselves  of  the  opportunity.  In 
Cornwall,  at  the  time  I  speak  of  (^now  twenty-nine  years 
ago),  Cornish  folk  did  not  think  much  of  a  meeting  unless 
it  was  an  exciting  and  noisy  one. 

In  this  schoolroom,  evening  by  evening,  the  Lord 
wrought  a  great  work,  and  showed  forth  His  power  in 
saving  many  souls.  I  have  seldom  read  of  any  remarkable 
manifestations  in  revivals  the  counterpart  of  which  I  did 
not  witness  in  that  room ;  and  I  saw  some  things  there 
which  I  have  never  heard  of  as  taking  place  anywhere  else. 
I  was  by  this  time  not  afraid  of  a  little,  or  even  much 
noise,  so  long  as  the  power  of  the  Lord's  presence  was 
evident.  The  shouts  of  the  people  did  not  hinder  me,  nor 
did  their  loud  praying,  nor  their  hearty  responses. 

There  were  some  subjects  on  which  it  was  impossible 


68 


FROM  DEATH  INTO  LIFE. 


to  venture  without  eliciting  vehement  demonstrations.  A 
friend  of  mine,  who  had  come  from  some  distance  on  a 
visit,  went  with  me  on  one  occasion  to  an  afternoon  Bible- 
class.  I  asked  him  to  address  the  people,  and  in  a  quiet 
way  he  proceeded  to  talk  of  heaven.  As  he  described 
the  city  of  gold,  with  its  pearly  gates,  its  walls  of  jasper,  its 
foundations  of  sapphire  and  precious  stones,  and  to  tell  them 
that  "  the  city  had  no  need  of  the  sun,  neither  of  the  moon, 
to  shine  in  it ;  for  the  glory  of  God  did  lighten  it,  and  the 
Lamb  is  the  light  thereof"  (Rev.  xxi.  2 — 3),  I  began  to 
feel  somewhat  uneasy,  and  feared  that  he  was  venturing  on 
tender  ground,  when  all  at  once  there  was  heard  a  shriek 
of  joy,  and  in  a  moment  almost  the  whole  class  was  in 
an  ecstasy  of  praise.  My  friend  was  greatly  dismayed,  and 
also  frightened  at  the  noise,  and  seizing  his  hat,  he  made 
hastily  for  the  door.  "Stop  !  stop!"  I  said;  "you  must 
stand  fire  better  than  that."  I  quietly  gave  out  a  hymn, 
and  asked  some  of  them  to  help  me  sing,  and  then  we  knelt 
down  to  pray.  I  prayed  in  a  low  voice,  and  soon  all  was 
still  again,  excepting  the  responsive  "Amens,"  and  the 
gaspings  of  those  who  had  been  thus  excited. 

It  may  be  asked,  why  did  I  permit  such  things  ?  I 
lived  amongst  a  people  who  were  accustomed  to  outward 
demonstrations ;  and  by  descending  to  them  in  their  ways  I 
was  enabled  to  lead  many  of  them  to  higher  things,  and  to 
teach  them  to  rest  not  so  much  on  their  feelings,  as  on  the 
facts  and  truth  revealed  in  the  Word  of  God.  But  theorize 
as  we  would,  it  was  just  a  question,  in  many  cases,  of  no 
work,  or  of  decided  manifestation.  We  could  not  help 
people  being  stricken  down,  neither  could  they  help  it 
themselves  ;  often  the  most  unlikely  persons  were  overcome 
and  became  excited,  and  persons  naturally  quiet  and 
retiring  proved  the  most  noisy  and  demonstrative.  How- 
ever, it  was  our  joy  to  see  permanent  results  aftenvards, 


REV.  IV.  AITKEN. 


69 


which  more  than  reconciled  us  to  any  amount  of  incon- 
venience we  had  felt  at  the  time. 

When  the  power  of  God  is  manifestly  present,  the 
persons  who  hear  the  noise,  as  well  as  those  who  make  it, 
are  both  under  the  same  influence,  and  are  in  sympathy 
with  one  another.  An  outsider,  who  does  not  under- 
stand it,  and  is  not  in  sympathy,  might  complain,  and 
be  greatly  scandalized.  For  my  own  part,  I  was  intensely 
happy  in  those  meetings,  and  had  become  so  accustomed  to 
the  loud  "Aniens,"  that  I  found  it  very  dull  to  preach 
when  there  was  no  response.  Prayer-meetings  which  were 
carried  on  in  a  quiet  and  formal  manner  seemed  to  me 
cold  and  heartless.  "They  that  go  down  to  the  sea  in 
ships,  that  do  business  in  great  waters ;  these  see  the 
works  of  the  Lord,  and  His  wonders  in  the  deep  "  (Ps.  cvii. 
23,  24).  Some  spiritual  mariners  never  venture  out  of  a 
calm  millpond,  and  rejoice  in  very  quiet  proceedings  ;  they 
do  not  look  like  rejoicing  at  all.  They  resemble  the  people 
who  are  going  through  a  formal  duty,  and,  "  like  a  painted 
ship  upon  a  painted  ocean,"  they  are  never  tossed.  Most 
undeniable  it  is  that  many  trying  things  happen  in  the 
excitement  of  a  storm. 

I  was  hardened  against  criticism,  and  only  wished  that 
my  criticizing  friends  could  show  me  a  more  effectual  way  of 
working,  and  a  way  in  which  God's  glory  might  be  advanced, 
without  giving  offence. 

The  very  remembrance  of  these  times  warms  my  heart 
as  I  write ;  and  though  I  do  not  know  whether  I  am  still 
young  enough  to  enter  into  such  things  in  the  same  way, 
yet  I  am  sure  that  the  manifest  presence  of  the  Lord,  under 
any  circumstances,  would  still  stir  and  rejoice  my  spirit.  My 
friend  Mr.  Aitken  used  to  rise  above  it  all  most  majestically, 
and  shout  as  loud  as  the  loudest.  It  was  grand  to  see  his 
great  soul  at  full  liberty  rejoicing  in  the  Lord.    He  was 


FROM  DEA  TH  INTO  LIFE. 


quite  at  home  in  the  noisiest  and  stormiest  meetings,  and  no 
doubt  he  thought  me  a  promising  disciple,  and  a  ver)'  happy 
one,  too. 

Oh,  what  tremendous  scenes  we  witnessed  whenever  Mr. 
Aitken  came  to  preach  at  Baldhu  !  The  church,  which  was 
built  to  seat  six  hundred,  used  to  have  as  many  as  fifteen 
hundred  packed  into  it.  Not  only  were  the  wide  passages 
crowded,  and  the  chancel  filled,  even  up  to  the  communion 
table,  but  tliere  were  two  rows  of  occupants  in  every  pew. 
The  great  man  was  king  over  their  souls,  for  at  times  he 
seemed  as  if  he  was  endued  with  power  whereby  he  could 
make  them  shout  for  joy,  or  howl  for  misery,  or  cry  aloud 
for  mercy.  He  was  by  far  the  most  effective  preacher  I 
ever  heard,  or  ever  expect  to  hear.  Souls  were  awakened 
by  scores  whenever  he  preached,  and  sometimes  the  meet- 
ings continued  far  into  the  night,  and  occasionally  even  to 
the  daylight  of  the  next  morning. 

To  the  cool,  dispassionate  outside  observers  and  the 
newspaper  reporters,  all  this  vehement  stir  was  very  extra- 
vagant and  incomprehensible,  and  no  doubt  they  thought 
that  it  was  done  for  excitement;  certainly  they  gave  us 
credit  for  that,  and  a  great  deal  more.  They  did  not  esteem 
us  better  than  themselves,  and  consequently  we  had  the  full 
benefit  of  their  sarcasm  and  invective. 

Cornish  revivals  were  things  by  themselves.  I  have 
read  of  such  stirring  movements  occurring  occasionally  in 
different  places  elsewhere,  but  in  Cornwall  they  were  fre- 
quent. Every  year,  in  one  part  or  another,  a  revival  would 
spring  up,  during  which  believers  were  refreshed  and  sinners 
awakened.  It  is  sometimes  suggested  that  there  is  a  great 
deal  of  the  flesh  in  these  things— more  of  this  than  of  the 
Spirit.  I  am  sure  this  is  a  mistake,  for  I  am  quite  satisfied 
that  neither  Cornish  nor  any  other  people  could  produce 
revivals  without  the  power  of  the  Spirit,  for  they  would 


SPIRITUAL  A  WAKENINGS. 


71 


never  be  without  them  if  they  could  raise  them  at  pleasure. 
But,  as  a  fact,  it  is  well  known  that  revivals  begin  and 
continue  for  a  time,  and  that  they  cease  as  mysteriously  as 
they  began. 

Sometimes  I  have  known  the  children  of  the  school 
commence  crying  for  no  ostensible  reason ;  when  a  few 
words  about  the  love  of  God  in  giving  His  Son,  or  the 
love  of  Christ  in  laying  down  His  life,  would  prove  enough 
to  kindle  a  flame,  and  they  would  begin  to  cry  aloud  for 
mercy  forthwith.  I  have  seen  a  whole  school  of  more  than 
a  hundred  children  like  this  at  the  same  time.  An  awaken- 
ing of  such  a  character  was  generally  a  token  of  the 
beginning  of  a  work  of  God,  which  would  last  in  power  for 
four  or  five  weeks,  if  not  more ;  then  the  quiet,  ordinary 
work  would  go  on  as  before.  Sometimes,  for  no  account- 
able reason,  we  saw  the  church  thronged  with  a  multitude  of 
people  from  various  parts,  having  no  connection  with  one 
another,  all  equally  surprised  to  see  each  other ;  and  the 
regular  congregation  more  surprised  still  to  see  the  unex- 
pected rush  of  strangers.  After  a  time  or  two  we  began  to 
know  the  cause,  and  understood  that  the  coming  together 
of  the  people  was  by  the  Spirit  of  the  Lord,  and  so  we  pre- 
pared accordingly,  expecting  a  revival  to  follow. 

On  these  occasions  it  was  very  easy  to  preach,  or  pray, 
or  sing;  we  had  only  to  say,  "Stay  here,  or  go  to  the 
schoolroom  "  Stand  and  sing  or,  "  Kneel  and  pray 
and  it  was  done  at  once  :  such  was  the  power  of  the  Spirit 
in  melting  the  hearts  of  the  people  into  entire  submission 
for  the  time. 


CHAPTER  IX. 


1851. 


IN  the  midst  of  these  things,  we  had  a  scene  quite 
characteristic  of  Cornwall,  which  was  the  funeral 
)    of  my  late  gardener  and  friend,  John  Gill.  This 


man's  conversion,  it  will  be  remembered,  was  the 
event  by  which  it  pleased  God  to  bring  my  religious  state  to 
a  crisis.  After  my  sudden  exit  from  John's  cottage,  which 
I  have  already  described,  he  continued  to  pray  for  me,  as 
he  said  he  would,  until  the  following  Sunday,  when  he 
heard  of  my  conversion.  Then  he  praised  God,  and  that 
with  amazing  power  of  mind  and  body  for  a  dying  man. 
Day  by  day,  as  his  life  was  prolonged,  he  was  eager  to 
hear  of  the  progress  of  the  work. 

At  last  the  day  of  his  departure  arrived,  and  he  was 
quite  content  and  happy  to  go.  A  large  concourse  of 
people  assembled  at  the  funeral,  dressed  in  their  Sunday 
best.  They  gathered  by  hundreds  in  front  of  John's  cot- 
tage, several  hours  before  the  time  fixed  for  the  service. 
During  this  interval  they  sang  hymns,  which  were  given  out 
two  hnes  at  a  time.  Then  they  set  out  for  the  church, 
singing  as  they  went  along. 


JOHN  GILHS  FUNERAL.  73 

In  the  West  it  is  not  the  custom  to  carry  the  coffin  on 
the  shoulders,  but  by  hand,  which  office  is  performed  by 
friends,  who  continuahy  relieve  one  another,  that  all  may 
take  part  in  this  last  mark  of  respect  to  the  deceased.  At 
length,  they  arrived  at  the  "  lych "  gate,  and  setting  the 
coffin  upon  the  lych  stone  (a  heavy  slab  of  granite,  put 
there  for  the  purpose),  they  sang  their  final  hymn.  At  the 
conclusion  of  this,  I  came  out  with  my  clerk  to  receive  the 
funeral  party  and  to  conduct  them  into  the  (jhurch.  After 
the  service  I  was  about  to  give  an  address,  when  I  was  told 
that  there  were  more  people  outside  than  within  the  church. 
In  order,  therefore,  not  to  disappoint  them,  we  came  to  the 
grave-side  in  the  churchyard,  and  from  thence  I  addressed 
a  great  concourse  of  people. 

I  told  them  of  dear  John's  conversion,  and  of  my  dis- 
appointment and  distress  on  account  of  it ;  then  of  my  own 
conversion,  and  John's  unbounded  joy ;  taking  the  oppor- 
tunity to  enforce  the  absolute  necessity  of  this  spiritual 
change,  and  the  certain  damnation  of  those  who  die 
without  it. 

This  funeral  caused  a  solemn  feeling,  and  as  the  people 
lingered  about,  we  re-entered  the  church,  and  further  im- 
proved the  occasion.  Then  we  went  to  the  schoolroom  for 
a  prayer-meeting,  and  many  souls  were  added  to  the  number 
of  the  saved. 

Among  the  strangers  present  was  a  gentleman  who  had 
come  all  the  way  from  Plymouth,  in  order  to  witness  for 
himself  the  wonderful  work,  of  which  he  had  read  an  account 
in  the  newspaper.  After  attending  se\  oral  of  our  services, 
he  came  up  to  speak  to  me,  and  said  that  he  had  seen  an 
account  of  "the  fall  of  a  High  Churchman  into  Dissent," 
which  was  regarded  as  a  very  extraordinary  thing,  for  at  that 
time  some  Dissenters  were  becoming  High  Churchmen,  or 
what  used  to  be  called  then  "  Puseyites."    Having  seen  me, 


74 


FROM  DBA  TH  INTO  LIFE. 


and  heard  for  himself  of  iry  conversion,  and  my  adherence 
to  the  Church,  he  was  satisfied,  and  asked  me  to  spare  time 
for  a  little  conversation  with  him. 

He  came  to  my  house  the  next  morning,  and  com- 
menced by  asking,  "  Do  you  really  think  you  would  have 
been  lost  for  ever,  if  you  had  died  before  you  were  con- 
verted ?  "  This  he  said  looking  me  full  in  the  face,  as  if  to 
see  whether  I  flinched  from  my  position. 

I  answered,  "  Most  certainly  ;  without  a  doubt" 
"  Remember,"  he  said,  calmly,  "  you  have  been  baptized 
and  confirmed ;  you  are  a  communicant,  and  have  been 
ordained ;  and  do  you  really  think  that  all  this  goes  for 
nothing  ?  " 

"  Most  assuredly,  all  these  things  are  good  in  their 
place,  and  fully  avail  for  their  respective  purposes,  but  they 
have  nothing  whatever  to  do  with  a  sinner's  salvation." 

"  Do  you  mean  to  say,''  he  continued,  "  that  the  Church 
is  not  the  very  ark  of  salvation  ?  " 

"  I  used  to  think  so,"  I  replied,  "  and  to  say  that  'there 
was  no  Church  without  a  Bishop,  and  no  salvation  out  of 
the  Church  ; '  but  now  I  am  sure  that  I  was  mistaken.  The 
outward  Church  is  a  fold  for  protecting  the  sheep,  but  the 
Church  is  not  the  Shepherd  who  seeks  and  finds  the  lost 
sheep." 

Well,"  he  said,  "  but  think  of  all  the  good  men  you 
condemn  if  you  take  that  position  so  absolutely." 

Seeing  that  I  hesitated,  he  went  on  to  say  that  he 
"  knew  many  very  good  men,  in  and  out  of  the  Church  of 
England,  who  did  not  think  much  of  conversion,  or  believe 
in  the  necessity  of  it." 

"  I  am  very  sorry  for  them,"  I  replied  ;  "  but  I  cannot 
go  back  from  the  position  into  which,  I  thank  God,  He 
has  brought  me.  It  is  burned  into  me  that,  except  a  man 
is  converted,  he  will  and  must  be  lost  for  ever." 


"  THIS  IS  VERY  DREADFUL!'' 


75 


"  Come,  come,  my  young  friend,"  he  said,  shifting  his 
chair,  and  then  sitting  down  to  another  onslaught,  "  do  you 
mean  to  say  that  a  man  will  go  to  hell  if  he  is  not  converted, 
as  you  call  it  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  do ;  and  I  am  quite  sure  that  if  I  had  died  in 
an  unconverted  state  I  should  have  gone  there ;  and  this 
compels  me  to  believe,  also,  that  what  the  Scripture  says 
about  it  is  true  for  every  one." 

"But  what  does  the  Scripture  say?"  he  interposed. 

"  It  says  that  '  he  that  believeth  not  is  condemned 
already,  because  he  hath  not  believed'  (John  iii.  i8) ;  and 
in  another  place,  '  He  that  believeth  not  shall  be  damned ' 
(Mark  xvi.  i6).  As  surely  as  the  believer  is  saved  and  goes 
to  heaven,  as  surely  the  unbeliever  is  lost  and  must  go 
to  hell." 

"  Do  you  mean  Gehenna,  the  place  of  torment  ?  " 
"Yes,  I  do." 

"  This  is  very  dreadful ! " 

"  More  dreadful  still,"  I  said,  "  must  be  the  solemn 
reality ;  and  therefore,  instead  of  shrinking  from  the  thought, 
and  putting  it  off,  I  rather  let  it  stir  and  rouse  me  to  warn 
unbelievers,  so  that  I  ma)',  by  any  means,  stop  them  on 
their  dangerous  path.  I  think  this  is  the  only  true  and 
faithful  way  of  showing  kindness  ;  and  that,  on  the  other 
hand,  it  is  the  most  selfish,  heartless,  and  cruel  unkindness 
to  let  sinners,  whether  they  are  religious,  moral,  reformed, 
or  otherwise,  go  on  in  an  unconverted  state,  and  perish." 

"  Do  you  believe,  then,"  said  my  visitor,  "  in  the  fire  of 
hell  ?    Do  you  think  it  is  a  material  fire  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  know  ;  I  do  not  wish  to  know  anything  about 
it.  I  suppose  material  fire,  like  every  other  material  thing, 
is  but  a  shadow  of  something  real.  Is  it  not  a  fire  which 
shall  burn  the  soul — a  fire  that  never  will  be  quenched — 
where  the  worm  will  never  die  ?  " 


76 


FROM  DBA  TH  INTO  LIFE. 


"  Do  you  really  believe  all  this?  " 

"  Yes,"  I  said,  "  and  I  have  reason  to  do  so."  I  remem- 
bered the  anguish  of  soul  I  passed  through  when  I  was 
under  conviction,  and  the  terrible  distress  I  felt  for  others 
whom  I  had  misled. 

"  When  our  blessed  Lord  was  speaking  to  the  Jews,  and 
warning  them  against  their  unbelief  and  its  fearful  conse- 
quences, He  did  not  allow  any  '  charitable  hopes'  to  hinder 
Him  from  speaking  the  whole  truth.  He  told  them  of 
Lazarus,  who  died,  and  went  to  Paradise,  or  Abraham's 
bosom  ;  and  of  Dives,  who  died,  and  went  to  hell,  the  place 
of  torment"  (Luke  xvi.) 

"  But,"  he  said,  interrupting  me,  "  that  is  only  a  parable, 
or  figure  of  speech." 

"  Figure  of  speech  ! "  I  repeated.  "  Is  it  a  figure  of 
speech  that  the  rich  man  fared  sumptuously,  that  he  died, 
that  he  was  buried  ?  Is  not  that  Uteral  ?  Why,  then,  is  it 
a  figure  of  speech  that  he  hfted  up  his  eyes  in  torment,  and 
said,  'I  am  tormented  in  this  flame'?  (Luke  xvi.  24).  My 
dear  friend,  be  sure  that  there  is  an  awful  reality  in  that 
story — a  most  solemn  reality  in  the  fact  of  the  impassable 
gulf.  If  here  we  do  not  believe  in  this  gulf,  we  shall  have 
to  know  of  it  hereafter.  I  never  saw  and  felt,"  I  continued, 
"  as  I  do  now,  that  every  man  is  lost,  even  while  on  earth, 
until  he  is  saved,  and  that  if  he  dies  in  that  unsaved  state 
he  will  be  lost  for  ever." 

My  unknown  visitor  remained  silent  for  a  little  time, 
and  I  could  see  that  he  was  in  tears.  At  last  he  burst  out 
and  said,  "I  am  sure  you  are  right.  I  came  to  try  you 
upon  the  three  great  'R's' — 'Ruin,'  'Redemption,'  and 
'  Regeneration,'  and  to  see  if  you  really  meant  what  you 
preached.  Now  I  feel  more  confirmed  in  the  truth  and 
reality  of  the  Scriptures." 

I  thought  I  had  been  contending  with  an  unbeliever  all 


MY  CLERICAL  QUERIST. 


along,  but  instead  of  this  I  found  that  he  was  a  man  who 
scarcely  ventured  to  think  out  what  he  believed  to  its  ulti- 
mate result — he  believed  God's  Word,  but,  like  too  many, 
alas  1  held  it  loosely. 

This  gentleman  had  experienced  the  truth  of  the  three 
"  R's  " — that  is  to  say,  he  had  been  awakened  to  know  him- 
self to  be  lost  and  ruined  by  the  fall,  redeemed  by  the  blood 
of  Christ,  and  regenerated  by  the  Holy  Ghost.  In  other 
words,  he  had  been  converted,  and  he  knew  it. 

I  found  out  that  at  the  time  of  his  conversion  he  was  a 
beneficed  clergyman,  and  that,  as  such,  not  being  respon- 
sible to  any  rector  or  vicar,  he  began  to  preach  boldly  the 
things  he  had  seen.  His  changed  preaching  produced  a 
manifest  result,  and  the  people  were  awakened,  even  startled, 
and  it  would  appear  he  was  startled  too.  Instead  of  thank- 
ing God  and  taking  courage,  he  became  alarmed  at  the 
disturbance  amongst  his  congregation,  and  finding  that  his 
preaching  made  him  very  unpopular,  he  was  weak  enough 
to  change  his  tone,  and  speak  smooth  things.  Thus  he 
made  peace  with  his  congregation,  and  gained  their  treacher- 
ous good-will ;  but  as  a  living  soul  he  could  not  be  satisfied 
with  this  state  of  things.  He  knew  that  he  was  not  faithful 
to  God  or  to  his  people;  so  being  a  man  of  competent 
means,  he  resigned  his  living,  and  retired  into  private  life — 
"beloved  and  respected,"  as  they  said,  for  being  a  good  and 
peaceable  man  ! 

At  this  distance  of  time  I  continue  to  thank  God  for  his 
visit  to  me ;  it  helped  to  fix  the  truth  more  firmly  in  my 
own  soul,  and  to  confirm  me  in  the  course  in  which  I  was 
working,  and  even  contending,  in  the  face  of  much  opposi- 
tion. .  I  must  say  that  I  have  had  no  reason  to  waver  in  my 
conviction,  and  still  feel  that  I  would  not,  for  ten  times  that 
man's  wealth,  and  twenty  times  the  amount  of  good-will 
which  he  enjoyed  (if  he  did  enjoy  it),  stand  in  his  place. 


78 


FROM  DEATH  INTO  LlfE. 


After  long  observation,  I  perceive  that  it  is  not  the 
sword  of  the  Word  which  offends  congregations,  for  preachers 
are  commended  and  promoted  for  declaring  the  whole  truth, 
so  long  as  it  is  judiciously  put,  and  with  "  much  discretion," 
so  as  not  to  wound  the  prejudices  of  the  people.  The 
majority  of  congregations  rather  like  to  see  the  sword  drawn 
out  to  its  full  length  and  flashed  with  dexterity,  and  they  do 
not  always  object  to  being  hit  with  it,  and  even  hit  hard,  so 
long  as  it  is  done  with  the  flat  of  the  sword ;  but  they  very 
quickly  resent  a  touch  with  its  edge,  and  more  a  thrust  with 
its  point.  They  admire  sheet  lightning,  which  is  beautiful, 
as  it  is  harmless ;  but  forked  lightning  is  something  to  be 
dreaded  and  avoided.  For  instance,  a  man  may  preach 
most  eloquently  and  acceptably  on  the  three  "  R's,"  if  he 
does  not  apply  the  subject  too  pointedly,  by  telling  the 
people,  both  in  the  pulpit  and  out  of  it,  that  they  are  now 
ruined  and  lost ;  and  that,  having  been  redeemed,  they  are 
responsible  before  God  ;  and  that,  if  they  will  not  be  regene- 
rated by  the  Spirit,  they  will  be  damned.  They  do  not 
object  to  your  saying,  "  You  hath  He  quickened,"  but  to 
turn  these  same  words  into  a  personal  question  is  too  often 
considered  impertinent ;  though,  indeed,  it  is  the  sincerest 
kindness  and  truest  Christian  love. 

"  This  is  a  faithful  saying,  and  worthy  of  all  acceptation, 
that  Christ  Jesus  came  into  the  world  to  save  sinners " 
(i  Tim.  i.  15).  He  came,  and  is  spiritually  present  now,  every- 
where, for  this  purpose.  His  real  presence  with  power  is 
particularly  promised  to  the  preacher  of  the  Gospel  (Matt, 
xxviii.  20).  The  Lord  Jesus  is  ever  present  to  take  especial 
interest  in  the  result  of  preaching.  How  disappointing  then 
must  it  be  to  Him,  to  find  His  servants  so  often  spending  their 
time  and  energies  upon  other  objects,  however  great  or 
good  they  may  be  !  When  they  do  preach  the  Gospel,  it 
must  grieve  Him  to  see  that  their  object  is  too  often  not 


"  PRE  A  CH  THE  WORD .' " 


79 


the  same  as  His ;  and  when  He  does  apply  the  Word  by 
the  power  of  the  Spirit,  it  must  also  grieve  Him  to  see  that 
tliey  are  afraid  of  the  result. 

Gospel  preaching  should  not  be  to  entertain  people,  nor 
even  to  instruct  them ;  but  first  to  awaken  them  to  see  their 
danger,  and  to  bring  them  from  death  into  life,  which  is 
manifestly  the  Lord's  chief  desire. 

This  was  the  definite  object  of  my  work ;  I  preached 
for  and  aimed  at  it ;  and  nothing  short  of  this  could  or 
would  satisfy  my  longings.  In  the  church,  in  the  school- 
room, or  in  the  cottages,  we  prayed  that  the  Holy  Spirit 
would  bring  conviction  upon  sinners,  and  then  we  sought 
to  lead  them  to  conversion  with  the  clear  ringing  testimony, 
"  You  must  be  born  again,  or  die  to  all  eternity." 


CHAPTER  X. 


^\jt  JFirst  Cljriatmas. 


HE  first  Christmas-day,  during  the  revival,  was  a 
wonderful  time.  The  people  had  never  realized 
before  what  this  festival  was,  beyond  regarding  it 
as  a  season  for  domestic  rejoicing.  It  surprised 
many  to  see  that  their  past  Christmases  were  a  true 
representation  of  their  past  lives — that  they  had  cheered 
and  tried  to  make  themselves  happy  without  Christ,  leaving 
Him  out  of  their  consideration  in  His  own  world,  as  they 
had  on  His  own  birthday.  What  a  Christless  and  hopeless 
life  it  had  been  !  What  a  Christless  religion  !  Now  we 
praised  the  Lord  together  for  His  marvellous  goodness  to 
us,  and  desired  that  we  might  henceforth  live  unto  Him, 
singing  in  heart  and  life,  "  Glory  to  God  in  the  highest,  and 
on  earth  peace,  good-will  towards  men." 

When  New  Year's  eve  arrived  we  had  a  midnight 
gathering,  and  dedicated  ourselves  afresh  to  God's  service. 
It  was  a  blessed  season,  and  several  hundreds  were  there, 
who,  together  with  myself,  were  the  fruits  of  the  revival 
during  the  previous  two  months. 

The  new  year  opened  upon  us  with  fresh  manifestation 


OUR  SCHOOLMASTER. 


8i 


of  divine  power  and  larger  blessings.  I  endeavoured  to 
show  the  people  that  the  Lord  was  called  Jesus,  not  that 
He  might  save  us  from  hell  or  death,  but  from  our  sins ; 
and  this  while  we  lived  on  earth — that  our  heart  and  all 
our  members  being  mortified  from  all  carnal  lusts,  we  might 
live  to  His  glory;  that  Christ's  religion  was  not  intended 
for  a  death-bed,  but  for  a  happy  and  effectual  Christian  life 
— a  life  showing  forth  the  power  of  His  grace. 

After  the  Christmas  holidays,  our  schoolmaster  and  his 
wife  returned.  They  came  back  full  of  disdain  and  preju- 
dice against  the  work,  and  even  put  themselves  out  of  the 
way  to  go  from  house  to  house,  in  order  to  set  the  people 
against  me  and  my  preaching.  They  said  that  they  could 
bring  a  hundred  clergymen  to  prove  that  I  was  wrong ;  but 
their  efforts  had  just  the  contrary  effect  to  what  they 
expected.  It  stirred  the  people  to  come  more  frequently 
to  hear,  and  contend  more  zealously  for  what  they  knew  to 
be  right.  The  master  was  particularly  set  against  "  excite- 
ment "  and  noise.  He  said,  "  It  was  so  very  much  more 
reverent  to  be  still  in  prayer,  and  orderly  in  praise ;  it  was 
not  necessary  to  make  such  an  unseemly  uproar  ! "  I  had, 
however,  discovered,  long  before  this  time,  that  the  people 
who  most  objected  to  noise  had  nothing  yet  to  make  a 
noise  about ;  and  that  when  they  had,  they  generally  made 
as  much  or  more  noise  than  others. 

If  a  house  is  seen  to  be  on  fire,  people  cannot  help 
making  an  outcry ;  which  they  do  not,  when  they  only  read 
about  it.  Witnessing  a  danger  stirs  the  heart;  and  when 
people's  eyes  are  open  to  see  souls  in  eternal  danger,  they 
cannot  help  being  stirred  up,  and  crying  out.  I  am  some- 
times asked,  "  Is  there  not  such  a  thing  as  a  feeling  which 
is  too  deep  for  expression?"  It  maybe  that  at  times  people 
are  so  surprised  and  astonished  at  some  sudden  announce- 
ment of  good  or  bad  news,  that  tiiey  are  stunned,  and  for  a 


82 


FROM  DEATH  INTO  LIFE. 


time  unable  to  give  vent  to  their  joy  or  grief ;  but  soon 
there  is  a  reaction,  and  then  expression  is  given.  Generally 
speaking,  these  so-called  "  deep  feelings "  are  only  deep 
in  the  way  of  being  low  down  in  the  vessel — that  is  to  say, 
very  shallow,  and  by  no  means  sufficient  to  overflow. 

We  read,  that  "  the  whole  multitude  of  the  disciples  be- 
gan to  rejoice,  and  praise  God  with  a  loud  voice,  for  all  the 
mighty  works  that  they  had  seen"  (Luke  xix.  37).  And  we 
are  told,  over  and  over  again,  in  the  Psalms,  to  "  praise 
God  with  a  loud  voice,"  and  to  "  shout."  When  we  lift  up 
our  voice,  the  Lord  can  stir  our  hearts ;  and  surely  the 
things  of  the  Lord  have  more  right,  and  ought  to  have 
more  power,  to  stir  and  arouse  the  soul  of  man,  than  a 
boat-race,  or  a  horse-race,  or  a  fictitious  scene  on  the  stage. 
I  think  people  would  be  all  the  better  for  letting  out  their 
hearts  in  praise  to  God.  It  may  be  it  is  trying  and  exciting 
to  some,  but  perhaps  they  are  the  verj'  ones  who  need  such 
a  stimulus,  and  this  may  be  the  best  way  of  bringing  it  out. 

Notwithstanding  the  schoolmaster's  opposition,  he  still 
came  to  church,  and  was  very  attentive  to  the  sermons, 
taking  copious  notes.  One  Sunday,  when  I  had  been 
preaching  on  the  text,  "  Cut  it  down ;  why  cumbereth  it 
the  ground?"  he  was  heard  to  say,  "Thank  God,  I  am 
not  cut  down  yet;"  and  then  he  proceeded  for  the  first 
time  to  the  after-meeting  in  the  school-room. 

When  I  entered  I  saw  him  low  down  on  his  knees,  and 
said  how  happy  I  was  to  see  him  there.  "  Oh,"  he  cried, 
"  I  fear  there  is  no  mercy— the  sentence  is  surely  gone 
forth  against  me,  '  Cut  him  down  !  cut  him  down  ! ' "  And 
then  the  poor  man  howled  aloud  in  his  distress.  The 
people  prayed  for  him  with  shouts  of  thanksgiving,  while 
he  threw  himself  about  in  agony  of  mind,  and  made  a  great 
noise,  which  only  drew  still  louder  acclamations  from  the 
people.    In  the  midst  of  this  tremendous  din  he  found 


''OH,  WHAT  WILL  BECOME  OF  US?"  83 


peace,  and  rejoiced  with  the  others  in  unmistakable 
accents,  and  as  loud  as  the  lo/udest.  Evidently  he  was  not 
asliamed  or  afraid  of  excitement  and  noise  now. 

While  he  was  thus  engaged  I  went  round  to  his  house 
to  see  his  wife,  and  tell  her  the  news.  I  found  her  sitting 
on  the  stairs  in  profound  dismay,  as  if  some  dreadful 
calamity  had  happened.  She  was  literally  dumb  with  fear 
and  astonishment.  When  she  could  speak,  she  said,  "  What 
will  happen  to  him  now  ?  Will  he  die  ?  What  will  become  of 
us?"'  When  I  assured  her  that  her  husband  was  only  just 
beginning  to  live,  she  said,  "  Must  we  be  Dissenters  now  ? 
Oh,  what  will  become  of  us  ?  "  Her  sister,  who  was  staying 
with  her,  became  very  angry  at  hearing  of  the  master's 
conversion.  Finding  that  I  could  not  do  much  with  these 
two,  I  left  them,  and  returned  to  the  schoolroom,  where  the 
people  were  even  more  uproarious  and  happy  than  before  j 
several  others  having  also  found  pardon  and  peace. 

The  Sunday  after,  the  master  was  seen  moving  out  of 
church  as  quickly  as  he  could ;  and  when  he  reached  the 
churchyard  he  was  observed  to  run,  and  then  leap  over  a 
wall,  and  next  over  a  hedge  into  a  field.  They  could  not 
hear  him,  but  he  was  shouting  all  the  time  as  well  as  running. 
He  afterwards  said  that  the  Prayer-book  was  full  of  mean- 
ing ;  it  was  like  a  new  book  to  him ;  and  that  if  he  had 
stayed  in  church,  he  should  have  disturbed  the  whole  con- 
gregation. He  became  a  very  earnest  Christian,  and  took 
much  pains  and  interest  in  the  religious  instruction  of  the 
children.  There  were  several  revivals  in  the  school  while 
he  was  there,  and  many  of  the  children  were  converted.  It 
was  not  long  before  he  was  able  to  rejoice  over  the  conver- 
sion of  his  wife,  and  her  sister  also. 

I  had  been  anxious  about  my  clerk  for  some  time ;  he 
was  a  good  man  in  his  way,  and  most  attentive  to  his  work 
in  and  out  of  church ;  he  was  also  a  regular  communicant, 


84 


FROM  DEA  TH  INTO  LIFE. 


and  exemplary  in  his  life;  but,  with  all  this,  he  was  uncon- 
verted. I  often  warned  him  of  his  danger  ;  and  one  day  it 
came  to  my  mind  to  tell  him  of  the  man  who  went  in  to  the 
marriage  supper  without  the  wedding  garment  I  said,  no 
doubt  he  thought  himself  as  good  as  others,  but  when  the 
King  came  in  to  see  the  guests,  he  was  speechless ;  and 
because  he  was  so,  and  had  not  on  the  wedding  garment, 
the  King  commanded  that  he  should  be  bound  hand  and 
foot,  and  put  into  outer  darkness.  Now,  I  continued,  the 
King  has  often  come  in  to  see  us,  and  we  have  rejoiced 
before  Him  ;  but  you  have  never  spoken  to  Him,  or  asked 
for  mercy.  It  is  a  very  hardening  thing  to  hear  so  much 
as  you  do,  and  remain  unsaved ;  and  a  very  deadening 
thing  to  come  to  the  Lord's  table  as  you  do,  going  through 
the  form  without  any  real  meaning.  You  receive  the  bread 
and  wine  in  remembrance  that  Christ  died  for  you,  and  yet 
you  do  not  believe  enough  to  thank  Him.  I  was  led  to  say, 
"  I  must  forbid  your  coming  to  the  Lord's  table  till  you 
have  given  your  heart  to  God.  You  know  it  is  right  to  do 
it,  and  that  you  ought  to  be  converted.  I  will  not  have  you 
come  here  again  till  you  are." 

The  man  looked  at  me  as  if  to  see  whether  I  meant  it, 
and  then  appeared  so  sorrowful  that  I  nearly  relented.  All 
through  the  service  he  was  low  and  dejected,  and  went 
away  at  the  time  of  the  administration  of  the  ordinance,  and 
sat  at  the  other  end  of  the  church.  My  heart  ached  for 
him,  for  I  had  never  seen  him  so  touched  about  anything. 
Afterwards,  when  he  came  into  the  vestry,  I  could  see  that 
he  had  been  crying.  "  Ah,  friend,"  I  said,  "  it  is  bad  to  be 
left  out  from  the  Lord's  table  here ;  what  will  it  be  to  be 
left  p-ut  of  heaven  ?  " 

In  the  evening  he  was  more  miserable  than  ever,  and  at 
the  close  of  the  service  came  into  the  schoolroom,  where 
he  broke  down,  and  asked  the  people  to  pray  for  him, 


"MV  FEET  ARE  ON  THE  ROCK"  85 

for  he  was  a  hard-hearted,  miserable  sinner.  "  Pray  the 
Lord  to  melt  my  heart."  We  did  so :  and  soon  the  poor 
broken-hearted  man  sobbed  and  cried  aloud  for  mercy  ;  and 
it  was  not  long  before,  to  our  great  joy,  he  found  peace.  He 
afterwards  told  us  that  he  had  been  getting  hardened  by 
forms  ever  since  he  had  been  clerk,  reading  solemn  words 
without  any  meaning,  which  at  first  he  trembled  at  doing. 
He  was  right ;  it  is  good  to  hear  the  Gospel,  good  to  attend 
the  means  of  grace,  good  to  assemble  in  the  company  of 
God's  people ;  but  to  rest  in  the  habit  of  doing  these  good 
things,  without  conversion,  is  most  dangerous,  and  calculated 
to  deaden  the  heart.  He  said  that  he  felt  it  very  much 
when  '  master  '  was  converted  (meaning  myself),  and  was  also 
dreadfully  condemned  ;  for  he  had  believed  in  the  necessity 
of  conversion  all  his  life ;  and  though  he  knew  that  I  was 
unconverted,  yet  he  never  told  me,  but  rather  encouraged 
me  to  go  on  as  I  was.  He  said  that  he  had  had  many  sleepless 
nights  about  it ;  "  but  now,  thank  God,"  he  added,  "  it  is 
all  right ;  my  feet  are  on  the  Rock,  my  soul  is  saved.  I  can 
praise  the  Lord  in  the  congregation." 

The  clerk's  conversion  did  not  stop  with  himself,  for  it 
was  a  call  to  some  of  the  ringers ;  they  were  still  outside 
and  unsaved,  though  they  knew  as  well  as  he  did,  that  they 
ought  to  be  otherwise.  One  of  these  men  began  to  attend 
the  meetings  regularly,  but  we  could  not  get  him  to  pray,  or 
speak  a  word.  I  said  to  him  one  evening,  "  You  will  never 
have  a  sound  from  the  bell  till  you  move  it  or  its  tongue  ; 
in  like  manner,  you  must  move  your  tongue,  for  you  will 
have  nothing  until  you  speak,  nor  get  an  answer  until  you 
pray."  Still  he  remained  silent,  and  shut  up  to  himself ;  till 
one  night,  as  we  were  putting  out  the  lights  at  ten  o'clock, 
the  meeting  being  over,  I  said  to  him  as  he  stood  by, 
James,  I  wonder  when  you  will  ever  give  your  heart  to 
God?"    He  looked  at  me  and  said,  "Now."    "That  is 


86 


FROM  DEATH  INTO  LIFE. 


right,"  I  replied ;  "  thank  God  !  let  it  be  so.  I  at  once 
stopped  the  extinguishing  of  the  lights,  and  invited  him 
to  pray  with  me,  but  he  took  no  heed.  It  was  evident 
he  had  deliberately  made  up  his  mind  what  he  would  do, 
for  he  took  off  his  coat,  undid  his  neck-tie,  turned  back 
his  shirt-sleeves,  and  then,  setting  a  form  about  nine  or  ten 
feet  long,  square  with  the  room,  he  knelt  down  and  began 
to  say,  "  Lord,  have  mercy  upon  me  !  "  "  Lord,  have  mercy 
upon  me  !  "  This  he  repeated  with  every  returning  breath, 
faster  and  louder  as  he  went  on,  till  at  last  he  worked  him- 
self up  to  a  condition  of  frenzy.  He  went  on  without  cessa- 
tion for  two  hours,  and  then  stopped  in  an  exhausted  state, 
gasping  for  breath.  I  pointed  him  to  the  cross,  and  told  him 
of  God's  mercy  in  giving  His  Son  to  die  for  sinners ;  but 
he  was  quite  absent,  and  did  not  appear  to  hear  me,  or 
take  the  least  notice.  After  a  little  rest,  he  commenced 
again  praying  as  before,  and  got  into  terrible  distress.  What 
with  his  noise,  and  the  energy  he  put  forth,  it  was  frightful 
to  see  the  struggle.  He  cried  and  beat  the  form  till  I 
thought  his  arms  would  be  black  and  blue ;  then  he  took 
up  the  form  and  beat  the  floor  with  it,  till  I  expected  every 
moment  it  would  come  to  pieces.  The  noise  he  made 
brought  some  of  the  neighbours  out  of  their  beds  in  a 
fright,  to  see  what  was  the  matter. 

At  two  o'clock  in  the  morning,  four  hours  after  he 
began,  he  laid  himself  across  the  form,  and  begged  with 
tears  that  the  Lord  would  not  cast  him  off.  I  told  him 
that  the  Lord  was  actually  waiting  for  him.  At  last  he 
found  peace,  or  felt  something,  and,  springing  up,  he  began 
to  shout  and  praise  God;  and  we  all  joined  with  him. 
When  this  was  done,  he  put  on  his  coat  and  neck-tie,  and 
saying  "Good  night,"  went  home.  From  this  time  he  be- 
came a  changed  man,  and  an  earnest  and  steadfast  believer. 


CHAPTER  XI. 


1851-4. 

URING  the  revival,  the  outpouring  of  the  Spirit  of 
God  was  very  manifest  and  unmistakable,  and 
was  seen  in  various  ways.  It  was  not,  of  course,  by 
power  or  might  of  men,  but  by  divine  influence, 
that  souls  were  awakened  to  see  themselves  in  their  true 
condition.  The  candle  of  the  Lord  was  lighted,  and  there 
was  a  searching  of  and  for  immortal  souls,  as  typified  by  our 
blessed  Lord  in  the  parable  of  the  lost  piece  of  silver. 

We  read  that  the  woman  with  her  lighted  candle  dis- 
covered her  treasure ;  so  the  Divine  Spirit,  by  awakening 
and  searching  hearts,  found  souls,  though  they  had  been 
buried  under  sins,  worldliness,  and  neglect,  and  that  for 
many  years.  It  was  astonishing  to  hear  persons  who  had 
been  dull  and  silent  before,  break  out  into  full  and  free 
expression  of  spiritual  truth ;  and  their  liberty  and  power 
in  prayer  were  not  less  remarkable.  It  was  truly  an  opening 
of  eyes  to  see,  and  ears  to  hear,  and  hearts  to  understand — 
a  raising  of  the  dead  to  spiritual  life  and  animation.  It  was 
as  wonderful  as  the  speaking  of  tongues  on  the  day  of 
Pentecost,  with  this  difference — that  those  people  spoke  what 


88 


FROM  DEATH  INTO  LIFE. 


they  knew,  in  tongues  they  had  not  known  ;  and  these,  in 
their  own  speech,  declared  things  which  they  had  never  seen 
or  known  before. 

We  had  another  distinctive  sign  of  Pentecost,  which 
was,  that  while  believers  rejoiced  with  overflowing  joy,  and 
sinners  were  pricked  to  the  heart,  and  cried  out,  "  What 
must  I  do  to  be  saved  ? "  there  were  those  who  mocked, 
saying,  "These  men  are  mad,  or  drunk."  But,  as  St.  Peter 
testified  long  ago,  these  men,  women,  and  children  were  not 
drunk,  but  under  the  influence  and  power  of  the  Holy 
Ghost. 

We  had  yet  another  sign.  The  prophet  Joel  predicted, 
"  It  shall  come  to  pass  that  I  will  pour  out  my  Spirit  upon 
all  flesh ;  and  your  sons  and  your  daughters  shall  prophesy, 
your  old  men  shall  dream  dreams,  your  young  men  shall  see 
visions;  and  also  upon  the  servants  and  upon  the  handmaids 
in  those  days  will  I  pour  out  my  Spirit"  (Joel  ii.  28,  29). 
And  I  think  my  narrative  would  be  very  incomplete,  and  I 
should  be  holding  back  the  truth,  if  I  did  not  tell  of  some 
of  the  dreams  and  visions  which  continually  happened  at 
this  time  amongst  us. 

Every  week,  almost  every  day,  we  heard  of  some 
remarkable  dream  or  striking  vision.  Such  things  may  be 
called  "  superstitious  "  by  incredulous  people,  but  I  merely 
state  what  actually  took  place  without  attempting  to  explain 
or  account  for  it.  My  own  feeling  is,  that  I  would  rather  be 
among  the  superstitious  than  the  incredulous ;  for  I  think 
that  the  former  lose  nothing  by  believing,  and  the  latter  gain 
nothing  by  their  unbeHef. 

Among  the  people  who  are  alive  to  spiritual  realities 
these  remarkable  tokens  are  not  suspected  or  doubted. 
To  believe  nothing  but  what  you  can  understand  or  account 
for,  is  to  believe  nothing  at  all.    Cornish  people  at  that 


DREAMS  AND  VISIONS. 


89 


time — and  they  may  still  be  the  same — lived  in  a  spiritual 
atmosphere,  at  least  in  their  own  county ;  so  much  so,  that 
I  have  often  heard  them  complain,  when  they  returned 
from  the  "shires,"  of  the  dryness  and  deadness  they  felt 
there.  I  can  certainly  set  my  seal  to  this  testimony,  and 
declare  that  those  of  us  who  had  visions  in  Cornwall  have 
not  had  them  in  the  same  way  out  of  that  district. 

I  will  give  a  few  specimens,  but  only  one  of  a  kind,  for 
it  would  fill  a  volume  if  I  told  all ;  the  reader  can  judge 
if  there  was  meaning  or  import  in  some  of  them  or  not. 

At  one  time,  when  there  was  a  depression  or  check  in  the 
congregation,  and  preaching  was  hard,  praying  formal,  and 
singing  flat,  I  invited  the  people  to  join  with  me  in  prayer,  that 
the  Lord  would  show  us  what  was  the  hindrance  in  the  way  of 
the  work.  They  prayed  with  one  accord,  and  without  con- 
sulting one  another,  almost  in  the  same  words,  whether  in 
the  school-room  or  in  the  cottages ;  the  substance  of  theii 
petition  was,  that  we  might  know  and  put  away  the  obstacle 
to  spiritual  blessing,  whatever  that  obstacle  might  be. 

One  night  I  dreamt  that  I  was  in  the  church,  feeling 
very  desolate  and  forsaken ;  there  were  very  few  people 
there,  but  soon  my  eyes  lighted  on  an  ugly-looking  stranger, 
who  tried  to  evade  me.  He  was  a  very  disagreeable,  sullen- 
looking  man.  When  I  spoke  to  him  he  gnashed  his  teeth, 
and,  as  I  approached,  he  drew  out  a  knife  and  held  it  out 
before  me.  I  pursued  him  notwithstanding,  when  he  backed 
towards  the  door  and  went  out.  I  followed  him  through 
the  churchyard  till  he  was  outside  the  lych-gate.  As  soon 
as  he  was  gone,  I  saw  a  troop  of  happy  people,  all  dressed 
in  white,  come  in  at  the  same  gate,  leaping  and  running 
like  so  many  joyful  children,  and  swinging  their  arms  for 
gladness  :  they  went  into  the  church  and  began  to  sing. 
The  dream  was  as  vivid  to  me  as  a  daylight  scene. 


90  FROM  DEATH  INTO  LIFE. 

I  went  out  the  next  evening,  intending  to  tell  it  at  the 
school-room  meeting ;  but  before  I  began  to  do  so,  I  ob- 
served that  the  people  sang  more  freely  than  usual,  and  I 
also  noticed  that  two  men  who  prayed  omitted  to  offer  the 
usual  request  for  hindrances  to  be  removed.  When  I  told 
my  dream,  a  man  arose  and  said,  "  I  know  all  about  that ; 
there  has  been  one  among  us  who  we  thought  was  a  good 
man,  but  instead  of  this  we  have  discovered  that  he  was 
most  immoral  and  deceitful,  doing  a  deal  of  mischief, 
secretly  undermining  the  faith  of  some,  and  misleading 
others;  he  has  been  detected,  and  is  gone."  Sure  enough 
our  old  happy  freedom  returned,  and  there  was  liberty  in 
preaching,  praying,  and  singing,  and  souls  were  saved. 

Another  time,  when  I  was  getting  a  little  impatient  with 
the  people,  I  took  a  leaf  out  of  my  Scripture-reader's  book, 
and  preached  a  furious  sermon  about  "  damnation,"  repre- 
senting God  as  pursuing  the  sinner  to  cut  him  down,  if  he 
did  not  repent  there  and  then.  I  thought  I  had  done  it  well, 
and  went  home  rather  satisfied  with  myself,  supposing  that 
I  now  knew  how  to  make  the  congregation  feel.  The  next 
morning,  a  woman  called  to  me  as  I  was  passing  her  cottage, 
and  said,  "Master,  what  d'yer  think?  I  dreamt  last  night  that 
the  devil  was  a-preaching  in  your  pulpit,  and  that  you  were 
delighted  at  it ! "  A  sudden  fear  fell  upon  me — so  much  so, 
that  I  returned  to  the  church,  and  shutting  the  door,  begged 
God's  forgiveness  :  and  thanking  Him  for  this  warning,  asked 
that  I  might  remember  it,  and  never  transgress  again. 

As  my  Scripture-reader  continued  to  denounce  wrath 
and  vengeance,  instead  of  preaching  the  Gospel,  I  parted 
with  him. 

Next,  let  me  tell  of  a  vision  which  refers  to  others.  My 
sister  came  to  me  one  morning,  and  said,  "  William,  I  had 
a  vision  last  night  of  a  young  man  in  a  tall  hat  with  a  green- 


THE  BASKET  OF  FRUIT. 


91 


and-red  carpet-bag  in  his  hand.  I  saw  him  so  plainly,  that 
I  should  know  him  again  anywhere.  He  was  walking  up 
the  road  when  you  met  him,  shook  hands,  and  returned 

with  him  to  the  house.    Then  you  and  F  brought  him 

in  at  the  glass  door.  On  the  hall  table  there  stood  a  basket 
containing  four  beautiful  and  fragrant  fruits.  You  took  up 
the  basket  and  offered  it  to  the  visitor,  who,  putting  his 
hand  upon  one,  said,  '  Oh,  thank  you  ! '  then  touching  the 
three  others  in  order,  said,  '  That  is  for  mother,  and  that 

for  sister,  and  that  for  .'    I  could  not  hear  who.  You 

may  smile,"  she  continued,  "  but  I  heard  that,  and  saw  it 
all  as  plainly  as  I  see  you  now." 

I  was  accustomed  to  hear  such  things,  and  consequently 
thought  no  more  about  it,  but  went  on  to  speak  of  other 
subjects.  In  the  course  of  the  afternoon,  as  I  was  going 
out,  I  met  a  relative  coming  along  the  road,  and  took  him 
back  with  me  to  the  house ;  there  my  wife  came  out  to  him, 
and  we  led  him  in  through  the  glass  door.  When  he  had 
sat  some  time,  and  had  had  some  luncheon,  my  wife  said, 
I  wonder  whether  this  is  the  young  man  we  heard  about 
this  morning  ?  "  "  What  young  man  ?  "  asked  our  visitor, 
hastily ;  " what  young  man  do  you  mean ? "  "I  should  not 
wonder  if  it  is,"  I  replied;  "we  will  see  presently."  He 
seemed  very  susjoicious,  having  heard  before  he  came  that 
some  mysterious  change  had  taken  place  in  us,  and  so 
looked  again  and  again  to  see  if  he  could  detect  anything 
different. 

"  Come  and  see  my  sister,"  I  said ;  to  which  he 
assented,  and  we  went  across  to  her  house.  As  soon  as  we 
entered  her  room,  she  said,  "  How  do  you  do  ?  I  saw  you 
last  night."  "What  do  you  mean?"  he  replied,  with- 
drawing his  hand.  "Why,  I  was  on  board  the  steamer 
last  night.  "That  may  be,"  she  said,  "but  you  are  the 
gentleman  I  saw.   Have  you  not  a  green-and-red  carpet-bag  ? 


92 


FROM  DEATH  INTO  LIFE. 


and  did  not  William  meet  you  on  the  road  ?  "  Poor  young 
man  !  he  looked  dreadfully  perplexed.  "  Never  mind  her," 
I  said ;  "  sit  down  and  tell  us  about  your  journey." 

After  we  had  talked  of  this  and  other  subjects,  we 
returned  home.  I  then  told  him  that  we  were  converted, 
and  asked  if  he  had  given  his  heart  to  God.  He  said  he 
had.  Not  being  satisfied,  I  put  the  question  in  another 
form,  and  yet  remained  unsatisfied  with  his  answer.  "  Do 
you  doubt  me?"  he  asked  :  "  I  will  prove  it  to  you."  He 
then  went  up  to  his  room  for  a  little  while,  and  returned 
with  a  paper  in  his  hand,  in  which  was  a  dedication  of 
himself  to  God,  duly  signed  and  sealed.  I  had  never  seen 
an  instrument  of  this  kind  before,  and  asked  if  he  really 
believed  in  it  ? 

"  Yes,  certainly,"  he  replied  ;  "and  I  mean  it  too." 

"  But,"  I  said,  "  do  you  not  see  that  faith  does  not 
consist  in  believing  what  you  wite,  but  in  what  God  has 
written  ?  The  AVord  says  that  God  is  more  willing  to  take 
than  you  are  to  give  :  you  believe  you  have  given ;  but  do 
you  believe  that  God  has  taken  ?  He  is  far  more  ready  to 
take  your  heart  than  you  to  give  it ;  as  surely  as  you  have 
given,  so  surely  He  has  taken.   Cannot  you  see  that?" 

He  replied,  "  I  knew  that  there  was  something  wTong 
about  this,  but  I  did  not  know  what.  Thank  you !  thank 
you  ! "  Then  thoughtfully  folding  up  the  paper,  he  went 
out  of  the  room. 

The  bell  was  rung  for  dinner,  but  he  did  not  appear ; 
and  then  for  tea,  but  he  declined  taking  anj'.  After  we  had 
gone  to  church,  he  found  his  way  down  and  followed  us 
there ;  and  when  the  service  was  over,  he  returned  again  to 
his  room.  I  was  detained  at  the  schoolroom  that  night, 
and  until  two  o'clock  in  the  morning,  praying  and  talking 
with  anxious  souls,  and  returned  home  very  tired.  Going 
up  to  bed,  I  saw  a  light  shining  under  my  visitor's  door, 


'*IT  IS  ALL  RIGHT  NOW/" 


93 


and  hesitating  there  a  few  moments,  I  heard  him  pleading 
earnestly  for  mercy.  I  had  a  great  mind  to  knock,  but  was 
afraid  of  disturbing  him ;  so  I  prayed  for  him,  and  went  to 
bed. 

In  the  morning  he  came  down  smiling.  "  Thank  God," 
he  said,  "  it  is  all  right  now ;  I  am  saved."  In  his  hand  he 
held  three  letters — one  to  his  mother,  one  to  his  sister,  and 
the  other  to  a  cousin,  in  which  he  invited  them  earnestly  to 
come  to  Jesus.  Within  the  week  all  four  were  in  our  house, 
praising  God  for  salvation. 

As  the  vision  indicated,  we  had  nothing  to  do  but  hold 
the  basket  to  him.  He  accepted  it,  and  the  fruit  for  him- 
self and  his  relatives. 

Amongst  other  people  and  characters  I  met  with  at  this 
time  was  a  good,  respectable  man,  who  had  a  remarkable 
dream.  He  came  to  me  one  day,  after  I  had  been  speaking 
about  Jacob's  ladder,  and  said  that  my  sermon  had  re- 
minded him  of  his  dream.  I  begged  him  to  sit  down  and 
tell  it  to  me.  He  said,  "  I  dreamt  that  I  and  nineteen 
other  young  men  were  living  in  a  beautiful  house  and  place, 
where  we  had  everything  provided  for  us,  and  were  free  to 
enjoy  ourselves  as  much  as  we  pleased.  We  all  understood 
that  the  premises  belonged  to  Satan,  and  that  we  were  his 
guests.  As  such,  we  were  permitted  to  take  our  pleasure 
upon  two  conditions — one  was,  that  we  were  not  to  pray ; 
and  the  other,  that  we  were  not  to  go  away.  We  smiled  at 
this,  and  said  it  was  not  likely  we  should  do  the  former,  for 
we  were  not  of  the  praying  kind;  and  less  likely  that  we 
should  do  the  latter,  for  why  should  we  be  such  fools  as  to 
forego  or  give  up  our  enjoyments  ?  " 

I  thought  to  myself.  What  a  wonderful  dream  that  is ; 
and  how  true  to  reality  !  What  numbers  of  young  men 
there  are,  and  young  women  too,  besides  many  older 


94 


FROM  DEATH  INTO  LIFE. 


people,  who  hold  their  worldly  happiness  on  this  tenure, 
and  of  course  from  the  same  master. 

Well,  to  continue  the  story  of  the  dream,  he  said,  "  In 
the  course  of  time  we  all  became  heartily  tired  of  the  place 
and  its  pleasures,  and  longed  to  get  away,  but  we  could  not. 
One  of  us  made  an  attempt  to  do  so,  but  he  was  captured 
and  brought  back,  and  made  more  of  a  slave  than  ever.  At 
last,  I  and  a  few  others  agreed  to  pray  at  a  stated  time  in 
different  places,  in  the  hope  that  if  one  was  caught,  yet 
the  rest  might  escape.  Upon  a  set  day  and  time  we  began 
praying,  each  in  his  appointed  place.  I  had  fixed  upon  a 
dark  corner  in  a  large  deserted  room,  wherg  we  had  stowed 
away  bales  and  bales  of  goods  we  did  not  care  to  open. 
Climbing  over  the  top  of  these  stores,  I  landed  on  the  other 
side,  and  went  to  the  spot  I  had  chosen.  I  had  not  prayed 
long  before  I  heard  master  coming,  cracking  his  whip, 
and  saying,  'I'll  teach  you  to  pray.'  This  made  me 
tremble  exceedingly,  and  pray  all  the  harder ;  but  hearing 
that  he  was  very  near  and  coming  after  me,  I  opened  my 
eyes,  and  to  my  surprise  there  was  a  beautiful  silver  ladder 
before  me.  As  quick  as  thought,  I  sprang  with  hands  and 
feet  upon  it,  and  began  to  climb  for  dear  life.  '  Ha  ! '  said 
master,  '  I'll  teach  you  to  climb.'  Then  I  felt  the  ladder 
shaking  under  me,  and  knew  that  he  was  coming  up.  I 
expected  every  moment  to  be  seized  and  dragged  back,  so 
I  climbed  all  the  faster,  and  looked  up  to  see  how  much 
farther  I  had  to  go.  Oh,  it  was  such  a  long  way,  and  there 
was  only  a  very  small  hole  to  get  to  at  last.  My  heart 
began  to  fail  me,  so  that  I  almost  let  go  my  hold,  till  I 
felt  the  master's  sulphurous  breath  on  the  back  of  my  neck, 
which  made  me  rush  forward  more  vehemently.  At  last  I 
reached  the  top,  and  thrust  my  arm  through  the  hole,  then 
my  head,  and  then  my  other  arm  ;  thus  I  got  through  alto- 
gether, leaving  my  old  enemy  blaspheming  and  cursing 


A  PREJUDICED  GUEST. 


95 


down  below.  It  was  a  most  beautiful  place  that  I  was  now 
in,  and  angels  were  flying  about,  just  as  the  birds  do  in  this 
world.  I  saw  the  Lord  Himself,  and  fell  down  before  Him 
to  give  Him  thanks.  As  I  remained  a  long  time  prostrate, 
He  said  to  me,  'What  is  thy  petition?'  I  answered,  'Lord, 
grant  that  that  hole  may  be  made  larger,  for  I  have  nineteen 
friends  down  there  in  the  power  of  the  cruel  master.'  The 
Lord  smiled,  and  said,  'That  hole  is  quite  large  enough.' 
So  I  awoke." 

Where  there  is  a  will,  there  is  always  a  way  of  some 
kind ;  and  if  worldlings  are  really  tired  of  Satan's  service, 
they  can  easily  call  upon  God  to  deliver  them,  and  He  will 
most  surely  do  so  when  He  sees  they  are  in  earnest.  This 
dream  had  the  effect  of  spiritually  awakening  the  man  who 
had  it,  and  of  bringing  him  to  the  foot  of  the  cross  for 
mercy  and  salvation. 

I  noticed  that  in  dreams  and  visions  in  Cornwall  the 
Lord  Jesus  very  often  appears,  and  the  devil  also ;  these 
are  real  persons  to  the  Cornish  mind,  and  their  power  is 
respectively  acknowledged. 

During  the  summer,  a  young  gentleman,  whom  we 
invited  to  our  house  in  the  hope  of  reaching  his  soul,  came 
to  stay  with  us ;  and  this  in  spite  of  his  avowed  prejudice 
against  us  and  our  proceedings.  I  took  this  as  a  token  of 
encouragement,  for  I  was  sure  that  the  devil  would  have 
hindered  his  coming,  unless  the  young  man  had  been  con- 
strained by  a  higher  power.  He  spent  his  time  in  riding 
about  or  smoking,  and  made  great  fun  of  our  meetings  and 
services,  though  I  observed  that  he  was  very  attentive  to 
hear  the  sermon  whenever  he  did  come. 

One  week-day  evening,  while  we  were  sitting  in  the 
drawing-room,  and  litde  expecting  it,  he  burst  into  tears, 
and  cried  out,  "  I  don't  know  what  to  do ;  I  shall  be  lost 


96 


FROM  DEA  TH  INTO  LIFE. 


for  ever  ! "  We  immediately  sprang  up  to  his  help,  always 
delighted  at  such  opportunities  of  working  for  the  Lord. 
We  knelt  down  to  pray,  and  as  we  continued  to  do  so,  he 
fell  into  great  distress,  and  even  agony  of  soul ;  he  literally 
writhed  as  if  in  excessive  pain,  too  great  for  utterance,  and 
looked  as  if  he  was  fainting  with  the  struggle.  We  called 
all  the  servants  into  the  room  to  help  in  prayer,  and  while  I 
was  praying  by  the  side  of  my  young  friend,  and  pointing 
him  to  Christ,  one  of  the  servants  rose  up  and  walked 
straight  across  the  room,  and,  with  a  firm  hand  pushing  me 
aside,  said,  "The  Lord  is  here  Himself."  I  rose  instantly 
and  moved  out  of  the  way,  while  she  stood  with  her  hands 
together,  adoring. 

She  afterwards  told  us  that  she  saw  the  Lord  stoop 
down  to  the  low  chair  where  my  young  friend  was  kneeling, 
and  putting  His  hand  on  his  head.  He  said  something,  and 
then  stood  up.  Immediately  upon  this  she  saw  the  verandah 
crowded  with  ugly-looking  devils,  all  with  their  eyes  fixed 
on  the  young  man  as  he  knelt.  The  Lord  then  waved  His 
hand,  and  the  ugly  company  vanished.  At  that  instant  the 
young  man  lifted  up  his  head,  and  turning  towards  the 
side  on  which  she  had  discerned  the  Lord  as  standing,  said, 
"  Lord,  I  thank  Thee,"  and  then  fainted  away. 

When  the  vision  was  over,  the  servant  came,  with  tears 
in  her  eyes,  to  ask  pardon  for  so  rudely  pushing  me  aside, 
but  said  that  while  the  Lord  was  there  she  could  not  help 
herself :  "  Oh,  He  is  so  beautiful,  so  grand  ! "  The  young 
man  was  soon  restored  to  animation,  and  began  to  speak  in 
a  voice  and  tone  very  different  to  his  former  utterance. 
He  was  altogether  a  remarkable  instance  of  a  change  of 
heart  and  life. 

One  more  case  I  will  relate,  with  its  solemn  end,  and 
then  proceed  with  my  narrative. 


THE  WARNING  DREAM. 


97 


A  careless,  worldly  man  in  my  parish  dreamt  one  night 
that  he  was  in  the  market  hall  of  a  certain  town.  He  was 
surprised  to  see,  in  a  wall,  a  doorway,  which  he  had  never 
noticed  before — so  much  so,  that  he  went  forward  to 
examine  it,  and  found  that  it  really  was  a  door,  and  that  it 
opened  to  his  touch.  He  went  inside,  and  there  he  saw  an 
impressive  and  strange  scene.  There  were  a  number  of 
men  and  women  walking  about,  who  appeared  to  be  very 
woeful,  and  in  great  agony  of  pain.  They  were  too  dis 
tressed  to  speak,  but  he  recognized  most  of  them  as  persons 
who  had  been  dead  some  time.  They  looked  mournfully 
at  him,  as  if  sorry  that  he  had  come  there,  but  did  not 
speak.  He  was  much  alarmed,  and  made  his  way  back  to 
the  door  to  escape,  but  was  stopped  by  a  stern,  sullen- 
looking  porter,  who  said,  in  a  sepulchral  voice,  "You  cannot 
pass."  He  said,  "  I  came  in  this  way,  and  I  want  to  go 
out."  "  You  cannot,"  said  the  solemn  voice.  "  Look,  the 
door  only  opens  one  way  ;  you  may  come  in  by  it,  but  you 
cannot  go  out."  It  was  so,  and  his  heart  sank  within 
him  as  he  looked  at  that  mysterious  portal.  At  last  the 
porter  relented,  and  as  a  special  favour  let  him  go  forth 
for  eight  days.  He  was  so  glad  at  his  release  that  he 
awoke. 

When  he  told  me  the  dream  I  warned  him,  and  begged 
him  to  give  his  heart  to  God.  "  You  may  die,"  I  said, 
"  before  the  eighth  day."  He  laughed  at  the  idea,  and  said 
he  was  "not  going  to  be  frightened  by  a  dream."  "  When 
I  am  converted,"  he  continued,  "  I  hope  I  shall  be  able  to 
say  that  I  was  drawn  by  love,  and  not  driven  by  fear." 
"But  what,"  I  said,  "if  you  have  been  neglecting  and 
slighting  God's  love  for  a  long  time,  and  He  is  now  moving 
you  with  fear  to  return  to  Him  ?  "  Nothing  would  do ;  he 
turned  a  deaf  ear  to  every  entreaty.  When  the  eighth  day 
arrived,  being  market  day,  he  went  to  the  hall  as  usual, 


98 


FROM  DEATH  INTO  LIFE. 


and  looked  at  the  wall  of  which  he  had  dreamed  with  par- 
ticular interest,  but  seeing  no  door  there,  he  exclaimed, 
"  It's  all  right ;  now  I  will  go  and  have  a  good  dinner  over 
it,  with  a  bottle  of  wine  1 " 

Whether  he  stopped  at  one  bottle  or  not,  I  cannot  tfeU  ; 
but  late  on  Saturday  night,  as  he  was  going  home,  he  was 
thrown  from  his  horse  and  killed.  That  was  at  the  end  of 
the  eighth  day. 

Whether  these  dreams  and  visions  were  the  cause  or 
effect  of  the  people's  sensitive  state,  I  do  not  know ;  but 
certainly  they  were  very  impressible,  and  even  the  cold  and 
hardened  amongst  them  were  ready  to  hear  about  the 
mysteries  of  the  unseen  world.  I  attributed  this  to  the 
spiritual  atmosphere  in  which  they  were  then  living. 


CHAPTER  XII. 


1852. 

FTER  the  events  narrated  in  Chapter  X.,  and  when 
all  the  people  who  dwelt  on  the  hill  on  which  the 
church  was  built  were  converted,  there  came  upon 
the  scene  a  very  remarkable  person,  who  had 
evidently  been  kept  back  for  a  purpose.  This  was  none 
other  than  the  veritable  and  well-known  "  Billy  Bray."  * 
One  morning,  while  we  were  sitting  at  breakfast,  I  heard 
some  one  walking  about  in  the  hall  with  a  heavy  step, 
saying,  "  Praise  the  Lord  !  praise  the  Lord  1 "  On  opening 
the  door,  I  beheld  a  happy-looking  little  man,  in  a  black 
Quaker-cut  coat,  which  it  was  very  evident  had  not  been 
made  for  him,  but  for  some  much  larger  body.  "  Well,  my 
friend,"  I  said,  "  who  are  you  ?  " 

"  I  am  Billy  Bray,"  he  replied,  looking  steadily  at  me 
with  his  twinkling  eyes  ;  "  and  be  you  the  passon?  " 
"Yes,  I  am." 

"  Thank  the  Lord  !    Converted,  are  ye  ?  " 
"Yes,  thank  God." 


*  See  "The  King's  Son ;  or,  Life  of  Billy  Bray,"  by  F.  W.  Bourne. 


lOO 


FROM  DEATH  INTO  LIFE. 


"And  the  missus  inside  "  (pointing  to  the  dining-room), 
"  be  she  converted  ?  " 
"  Yes,  she  is." 

"Thank  the  dear  Lord,"  he  said,  moving  forward. 

I  made  way  for  him,  and  he  came  stepping  into  the 
room  ;  then  making  a  profound  bow  to  the  said  "  missus," 
he  asked,  "  Be  there  any  maidens  (servants)  ?  " 

"Yes,  there  are  three  in  the  kitchen." 

"  Be  they  converted  too  ?  " 

I  was  able  to  answer  in  the  affirmative  ;  and  as  I  pointed 
towards  the  kitchen  door  when  I  mentioned  it,  he  made  off 
in  that  direction,  and  soon  we  heard  them  all  shouting  and 
praising  God  together.  When  we  went  in,  there  was  Billy 
Bray,  very  joyful,  singing, 

"  Canaan  is  a  happy  place ; 
I  am  bound  for  the  land  of  Canaan." 
We  then  returned  to  the  dining-room  with  our  strange 
guest,  when  he  suddenly  caught  me  up  in  his  arms  and 
carried  me  round  the  room.  I  was  so  taken  by  surprise, 
that  it  was  as  much  as  I  could  do  to  keep  myself  in  an 
upright  position,  till  he  had  accomplished  the  circuit.  Then 
he  set  me  in  my  chair,  and  rolHng  on  the  ground  for  joy, 
said  that  he  "was  as  happy  as  he  could  live."  When  this  per- 
formance was  at  an  end,  he  rose  up  with  a  face  that  denoted 
the  fact,  for  it  was  beaming  all  over.  I  invited  him  to  take 
some  breakfast  with  us,  to  which  he  assented  with  thanks. 
He  chose  bread  and  milk,  for  he  said,  "I  am  only  a  child." 

I  asked  him  to  be  seated,  and  gave  him  a  chair ;  but  he 
preferred  walking  about,  and  went  on  talking  all  the  time. 
He  told  us  that  twenty  years  ago,  as  he  was  walking  over 
this  very  hill  on  which  my  church  and  house  were  built  (it 
was  a  barren  old  place  then),  the  Lord  said  to  him,  "  I  will 
give  thee  all  that  dwell  in  this  mountain."  Immediately  he 
fell  down  on  his  knees  and  thanked  the  Lord,  and  then  ran 


BILLY  BRAY. 


lOI 


to  the  nearest  cottage.  There  he  talked  and  prayed  with 
the  people,  and  was  enabled  to  bring  them  to  Christ ;  then 
he  went  to  the  next  cottage,  and  got  the  same  blessing ;  and 
then  to  a  third,  where  he  was  equally  successful.  Then  he 
told  "  Father  "  that  there  were  only  three  "  housen  "  in  this 
mountain,  and  prayed  that  more  might  be  built.  That 
prayer  remained  with  him,  and  he  never  ceased  to  make  it 
for  years.  The  neighbours,  who  heard  his  prayer  from  time 
to  time,  wondered  why  he  should  ask  for  "  housen  "  to  be 
built  in  such  an  "  ungain  "  place. 

At  last,  after  sixteen  years,  he  received  a  letter  from  his 
brother  James,  to  say  that  they  were  hacking  up  the  "  croft  " 
to  plant  trees,  and  that  they  were  going  to  build  a  church 
on  the  hill.  He  was  "  fine  and  glad,"  and  praised  the 
Lord.  Again  he  did  so,  when  his  brother  wrote  to  say 
there  was  a  vicarage  to  be  built  on  the  same  hill,  and  a 
schoolroom  also.  He  was  almost  beside  himself  with  joy 
and  thankfulness  for  all  this. 

In  the  year  1848,  when  the  church  was  completed  and 
opened,  he  came  on  a  visit  to  Baldhu,  and  was  greatly 
surprised  to  see  what  a  change  had  taken  place.  There 
was  a  beautiful  church,  a  parsonage,  with  a  flourishing 
garden,  and  also  a  schoolroom,  with  a  large  plantation  and 
fields  round  them.  He  was  quite  "  'mazed,"  for  he  never 
thought  that  the  old  hill  could  be  made  so  grand  as  that  ! 
However,  when  he  went  to  the  service  in  the  church,  his 
joy  was  over;  he  came  out  "  checkfallen,"  and  quite  disap- 
pointed. He  told  "  Father  "  that  there  was  nothing  but  an 
"  old  Pusey  "  He  had  got  there,  and  that  he  was  no  good.> 
While  he  was  praying  that  afternoon,  "  Father  "  gave  him  to 
understand  that  he  had  no  business  there  yet,  and  that  he 
had  come  too  soon,  and  without  permission.  So  he  went 
back  to  his  place  at  once,  near  Bodmin,  and  continued  to 
pray  for  the  hill. 


102  FROM  DBA  TH  INTO  LIFE. 

After  three  years  his  brother  James  wrote  again ;  and 
this  time  it  was  to  tell  him  that  the  parson  and  all  his  family 
were  converted,  and  that  there  was  a  great  revival  at  the 
church.  Now  poor  Billy  was  most  eager  to  come  and 
see  this  for  himself,  but  he  obtained  no  permission,  though 
he  asked  and  looked  for  it  every  day  for  more  than  three 
months. 

At  last,  one  wintry  and  frosty  night  in  January,  about 
half-past  eleven  o'clock,  just  as  he  was  getting  into  bed, 
"  Father  "  told  him  that  he  might  go  to  Baldhu.  He  was 
so  overjoyed,  that  he  did  not  wait  till  the  morning,  but 
immediately  "  put  up  "  his  clothes  again,  "  hitched  in  "  the 
donkey,  and  set  out  in  his  slow-going  little  cart.  He  came 
along  singing  all  the  way,  nearly  thirty  miles,  and  arrived 
early  in  the  morning.  Having  put  up  his  donkey  in  my 
stable,  he  came  into  the  house,  and  presented  himself,  as  I 
have  already  stated,  in  the  hall,  praising  God. 

We  were  a  long  time  over  breakfast  that  morning,  for 
the  happy  man  went  on  from  one  thing  to  another,  "  tehing 
of  the  Lord,"  as  he  called  it,  assuring  us  again  and  again 
that  he  was  "fine  and  glad,  and  very  happy" — indeed,  he 
looked  so.  He  said  there  was  one  thing  more  he  must  tell 
us  ;  it  was  this — that  he  had  a  "  preaching-house  "  (what  we 
should  now  call  a  mission-room),  which  he  had  built  years 
ago.  He  had  often  prayed  there  for  "  this  old  mountain," 
and  now  he  should  dearly  love  to  see  me  in  the  pulpit  of 
that  place,  and  said  that  he  would  let  me  have  it  for  my 
work.  He  went  on  to  say  that  he  had  built  it  by  prayer  and 
faith,  as  "  Father  "  sent  him  help,  and  that  he  and  another 
man  had  built  it  with  their  own  hands.  One  day  he  was 
short  of  money  to  buy  timber  to  finish  the  roof ;  his  mate 
said  it  would  take  two  pounds'  worth  ;  so  he  asked  the  Lord 
for  this  sum,  and  wondered  why  the  money  did  not  come, 
for  he  felt  sure  that  he  was  to  have  it.    A  farmer  happened 


THE  RELUCTANT  FARMER. 


to  look  in  the  next  morning,  and  Billy  thought  he  had 
come  with  the  money,  but  he  merely  asked  them  what  they 
were  doing,  and  then  took  his  departure,  without  giving 
them  help.  All  that  day  they  waited  in  expectation,  and 
went  home  in  the  evening  without  having  done  any  work. 
The  next  morning  the  same  farmer  appeared  again,  and 
said,  "  What  do  you  want  two  pounds  for  ?  "  "  Oh,"  said 
Billy,  "you  are  come,  are  you?  We  want  that  money 
for  the  roof  yonder."  The  farmer  then  went  on  to  say, 
*'  Two  days  ago  it  came  to  my  mind  to  give  two  pounds  for 
the  preaching  house,  but  as  I  was  coming  down  the  hill 
on  yesterday  morning,  something  said  to  me,  *  If  you  give 
one  pound  it  will  be  handsome ; '  then  I  thought  I  would 
give  only  half-a-sovereign ;  and  then  that  I  would  give 
nothing.  Why  should  I?  But  the  Lord  laid  it  on  my 
mind  again  last  night  that  I  must  give  you  two  pounds. 
There  it  is  ! " 

"  Thank  the  Lord ! "  said  Billy,  and  proceeded  imme- 
diately to  get  the  required  timber.  In  answer  to  prayer 
he  also  obtained  "  reed  "  for  thatching  the  roof,  and  by  the 
same  means  timber  for  the  forms  and  seats. 

It  was  all  done  in  a  humble  manner,  so  that  he  did  not 
dream  of  buying  any  pulpit ;  but  one  day,  as  he  was  passing 
along  the  road,  he  saw  that  they  were  going  to  have  a  sale 
at  the  "count-house"  of  an  old  mine.  He  went  in,  and  the 
first  thing  which  met  his  eye  was  a  strong  oak  cupboard, 
with  a  cornice  round  the  top.  It  struck  him  that  it  would 
make  a  grand  pulpit,  if  only  it  was  strong  enough  :  on 
examination,  he  found  it  all  he  could  desire  in  this  respect. 
He  thought  if  he  could  take  off  the  top  and  make  a  "plat' 
to  stand  upon,  it  would  do  "  first-rate."  He  told  "  Father  " 
so,  and  wondered  how  he  could  get  it.  He  asked  a  stranger 
who  was  there,  walking  about,  what  he  thought  that  old 
cupboard  would  go  for  ?     "  Oh,  for  about  five  or  six 


I04 


FROM  DEATH  INTO  LIFE. 


shillings,"  was  the  reply.  And  while  Billy  was  pondering 
how  to  "  rise  "  six  shillings,  the  same  man  came  up  and 
said,  "  What  do  you  want  that  cupboard  for,  Billy  ?  "  He 
did  not  care  to  tell  him,  for  he  was  thinking  and  praying 
about  it.  The  man  said,  "  There  are  six  shillings  for  you  ; 
buy  it,  if  you  will."  Billy  took  the  money,  thanking  the 
Lord,  and  impatiently  waited  for  the  sale.  No  sooner  was 
the  cupboard  put  up,  than  he  called  .out,  "  Here,  maister, 
here's  six  shillin's  for  un,"  and  he  put  the  money  down  on 
the  table.  "  Six  shillings  bid,"  said  the  auctioneer — "  six 
shillings — thank  you ;  seven  shillings ;  any  more  for  that 
good  old  cupboard  ?  Seven  shillings.  Going — going — 
gone  ! "    And  it  was  knocked  down  to  another  man. 

Poor  Billy  was  much  disappointed  and  perplexed  at 
this,  and  could  not  understand  it  at  all.  He  looked  about 
for  the  man  who  had  given  him  the  six  shillings,  but  in  vain 
— he  was  not  there.  The  auctioneer  told  him  to  take  up 
his  money  out  of  the  way.  He  complied,  but  did  not  know 
what  to  do  with  it.  He  went  over  a  hedge  into  a  field  by 
himself,  and  told  "  Father"  about  it ;  but  it  was  all  clear — 
"  Father  "  was  not  angry  about  anything.  He  remained 
there  an  hour,  and  then  went  homewards. 

As  he  was  going  along,  much  troubled  in  his  mind  as  to 
this  experience  (for  he  still  felt  so  sure  he  was  to  have  that 
cupboard  for  a  pulpit),  he  came  upon  a  cart  standing  outside 
a  public-house,  with  the  very  cupboard  upon  it,  and  some 
men  were  measuring  it  with  a  foot  rule.  As  he  came  up,  he 
heard  them  say,  "  It  is  too  large  to  go  in  at  the  door,  or  the 
window  either."  The  publican  who  had  bought  it  said,  "  I 
wish  I  had  not  bid  for  the  old  thing  at  all ;  it  is  too  good  to 
'  scat '  up  for  firewood."  At  that  instant  it  came  to 
Billy's  mind  to  say,  "  Here,  I'll  give  you  six  shillings  for 
un."  "  Very  well,"  said  the  man,  taking  the  money  ;  "  you 
can  have  him."   Then  Billy  began  to  praise  the  Lord, 


BILLY'S  PULPIT. 


and  went  on  to  say,  " '  Father '  as  good  as  told  me  that  I 
was  to  have  that  cupboard,  and  He  knew  I  could  not  carry 
him  home  on  my  back,  so  He  has  found  a  horse  and  cart 
for  me.  Bless  the  Lord  ! "  Promising  to  bring  it  back 
very  soon,  he  led  the  horse  down  the  hill,  and  put  the  old 
cupboard  into  the  preaching  house.  "  There  it  is  ! "  he 
exclaimed,  "and  a  fine  pulpit  he  does  make,  sure  enough  ! 
Now,"  said  Billy,  "  I  want  to  see  thee  in  it.  When  will 
you  come?"  I  could  not  fix  for  that  day,  or  the  next, 
but  made  arrangements  to  conduct  a  series  of  services 
the  next  week,  and  promised  to  have  them  in  that 
place. 

Before  he  left  us,  he  made  a  particular  inquiry  about  the 
two  other  houses  which  had  been  built,  who  lived  in  them, 
and  especially  if  all  the  "dwellers  were  converted."  Then 
he  declared  his  intention  to  go  and  see  the  parties,  and 
rejoice  with  them,  and  testify  how  fully  the  Lord  had  accom- 
plished the  promise  He  gave  him  upon  that  very  hill,  twenty 
years  before. 

According  to  promise,  I  went  to  Billy  Bray's  preaching- 
house,  or  mission-hall.  It  was  the  first  time  that  I  had 
preached  anywhere  outside  my  church  and  schoolroom 
since  my  conversion.  There  it  pleased  the  Lord  to  give 
me  much  help,  and  a  great  work  followed,  such  as  Billy 
had  never  seen  in  that  place  before.  Several  times  we  were 
detained  there  all  night  through,  with  penitents  crying  aloud 
for  mercy,  and  believers  rejoicing. 

As  a  rule,  the  Cornish  man  would  remain  at  a  meeting 
for  hours,  and  come  again  the  next  day,  and  the  day  after, 
if  needful,  till  he  felt  that  he  could  cry  for  mercy,  and  then 
he  would  begin  and  continue  crying  until  he  felt  he  could 
believe. 

At  the  conclusion  of  these  services  we  returned  to  the 
schoolroom,  where  our  meetings  were  continued. 


io6 


FROM  DEATH  INTO  LIFE. 


Our  friend  Billy  remained  with  us  at  Baldhu,  and  was 
very  useful.  He  spoke  in  the  schoolroom  with  much 
acceptance  and  power  in  the  simplicity  of  his  faith,  and 
souls  were  added  to  the  Lord  continually. 

At  this  time  he  was  very  anxious  for  a  cousin  of  his,  a 
man  somewhat  older  than  himself,  of  the  same  name.  This 
Billy  was  as  famous  for  his  drunkenness  and  dissolute 
habits,  as  the  other  Billy  was  for  his  faith  and  joy.  The 
former  used  to  go  by  the  name  of  the  "lost  soul."  The 
very  children  in  the  lanes  called  after  him,  "Ah,  Billy, 
you  are  a  lost  soul,"  and  laughed  at  him.  I  was  then  in  the 
freshness  and  power  of  my  first  love,  and  could  not  help 
regarding  this  pitiable  object,  and  considering  his  case  ;  for 
I  could  not  imagine  why  any  man  should  remain  unsaved 
and  without  Christ. 

Accordingly,  one  wet  morning,  when  I  felt  pretty  sure 
that  old  Billy  would  not  be  out  working  in  the  field,  I 
made  my  way  down  to  his  house.  As  I  expected,  he  was 
at  home  in  his  chimney  corner;  so  setting  down  my  dripping 
umbrella,  I  told  him  how  glad  I  was  to  find  him  there,  for  I 
wanted  to  have  a  talk  with  him. 

"  Ah,  it's  all  very  well  for  you  gentlemen,  who  have  none 
else  to  do  but  to  go  about  and  talk ;  but  we  poor  men  must 
worL"  So  saying,  he  rose  up  from  his  "  settle  "  and  went 
to  the  door. 

"  But,  Billy,  it  is  raining  quite  hard  ;  you  cannot  work 
in  rain  like  that." 

"  Can't  help  it ;  we  must  do  our  work,"  and  so  he 
slammed  the  door  after  him  and  departed. 

His  wife  made  all  kinds  of  apologies  for  him,  because 
"he  was  a  very  singular  kind  of  man;  he  did  not  mean 
bad — he  was  '  that  curious,'  that  he  said  and  did  curious 
things,  and  that  I  must  not  mind  him." 

I  confess  I  was  much  disappointed  at  his  abrupt  depar- 


"IS  THE  PASSON  GONE?" 


107 


ture  from  the  house,  but  I  remained  a  little  longer,  till  the 
worst  of  the  storm  was  over. 

After  the  lapse  of  nearly  a  quarter  of  an  hour,  Billy 
crept  back  to  the  door,  and  lifting  the  latch  quietly,  whis- 
pered to  his  wife,  "  Is  the  passon  gone  ?  " 

No,  Billy,"  I  said,  "  here  I  am.  Come  in  out  of  the 
wet.    I  am  so  glad  you  have  come  back  ?  " 

"  What  d'yer  want  with  me  ?  "  he  inquired. 

"  I  want  to  talk  to  you  about  your  soul.  I  have  been 
thinking  much  about  you  lately,  Billy.  They  call  you  a 
*  lost  soul.' " 

"  What's  that  to  you  ?  " 

"  Ah,  a  great  deal,"  I  said,  "  because  I  have  a  message 
for  lost  people.  I  am  not  a  doctor  for  the  body ;  my  busi- 
ness is  about  the  soul." 

"  I  ain't  so  bad  as  all  that  yet,"  he  replied. 

"  But  you  are  bad  enough,  Billy — bad  enough." 

"  Yes,  indeed,"  interposed  his  wife. 

"  You  hold  yer  tongue  ;  you're  no  better." 

I  beckoned  to  her  to  be  still,  and  went  on  to  say,  "  You 
are  bad  enough,  Billy,  for  an  old  man.  How  old  are 
you  ?  " 

"  Up  seventy  years." 

"  Seventy  years  ! "  I  repeated.  "  Well,  now,  that's  a 
great  age — that's  the  age  of  man.  Threescore  years  and 
ten  !  It  is  like  giving  you  notice  to  give  up  the  keys  of  the 
old  tabernacle.  I  wonder  why  God  spares  your  life  ?  I  am 
afraid  you  have  been  a  cumbercr  of  the  ground  all  this 
time,  Billy.  Do  you  know  why  the  good  Lord  has  spared 
you  for  so  long?" 

"  I  can't  tell,"  he  said,  getting  more  and  more 
impatient. 

"  Well,  do  you  know,  I  think  I  can  tell  you.  He  is  such 
a  loving  and  merciful  God,  He  2oants  to  have  mercy  on  you  ! 


io8  FROM  DEATH  INTO  LIFE. 

you  could  not  have  greater  proof  of  it,  could  you  ?  You 
set  a  horribly  bad  example  ;  you  do  nothing  but  drink, 
and  smoke,  and  swear.  You  have  asked  God  to  damn  your 
soul  over  and  over  again,  and  yet  here  you  are  still.  Why 
is  this  ?  " 

He  did  not  answer,  but  seemed  interested ;  so  I  went  on 
to  speak  of  the  forbearance  of  God  towards  him.  I  said, 
"  Billy,  do  you  know  that  I  think  the  Lord  wants  to  have 
mercy  on  you  ?  He  wants  to  save  you  !  "  As  he  listened, 
I  went  on  to  tell  him  that  God  loved  him,  and  gave  His 
Son  to  die  for  him.  Then  I  proceeded  to  speak  of  the 
wonderful  patience  and  long-suffering  of  God — a  kind  of 
crown  upon  His  love ;  and  what  a  shame  it  was  to  sin 
against  such  love  as  this. 

Poor  Billy  looked  at  me  with  tears  in  his  eyes,  and  said, 
"  You  are  a  dear  man  !  " 

"  Dear  man  1 "  I  answered.  "  What,  then,  is  God,  if 
I  am  '  dear '  only  for  telling  you  of  His  love  ?  Ah,  Billy, 
take  and  give  your  heart  to  God  at  once.  He  is  waiting  for 
you.    It  is  a  shame  to  refuse  such  a  God." 

I  knelt  down  and  began  to  pray  for  him.  He  soon  fell 
on  his  knees  too,  and  sobbed  aloud ;  then  he  commenced  to 
pray  in  his  own  way.  He  needed  much  teaching,  so  when 
he  rose  from  his  knees  I  said  to  him,  "  Now,  Billy,  I  have 
been  to  see  you  ;  it  is  your  turn  to  come  and  see  me  next. 
When  will  you  come  ?  " 

"  This  afternoon,"  he  said. 

"Very  good;  come  this  afternoon."  And  he  did. 
More  than  that,  this  poor  "  lost  soul "  found  peace  in 
my  study,  to  his  great  joy ;  and  he  was  not  ashamed  to 
acknowledge  it  openly,  nor  afraid  to  praise  God  for  His 
great  goodness. 

The  same  evening  he  stood  up  in  the  schoolroom 
meeting,  and  told  the  people  what  the  Lord  had  done  for 


THE  "LOST  SOUL"  SAVED. 


109 


his  soul.  There  was  great  excitement  that  night,  and  well 
there  might  be,  for  every  one  knew  what  a  daring  and 
wicked  man  he  had  been.  One  man  said  that  "if  a 
corpse  had  come  out  of  the  churchyard  and  spoken,  he 
could  not  have  been  more  frightened "  (more  surprised, 
he  meant). 

Old  Billy's  conversion  gave  a  new  and  fresh  impetus  to 
the  work,  and  many  more  souls  were  added  to  the  Lord. 

This  dear  man  lived  for  three  months  after  this,  verifying 
the  words  I  was  led  to  say  to  him  at  the  beginning  of  our 
intercourse — that  the  Lord  was  keeping  him  alive  in  order 
to  have  mercy  upon  him.  At  the  end  of  this  time,  his 
daughter  came  to  me  one  morning  in  great  haste,  and  said, 
"  Father  is  dying,  and  does  so  want  to  see  you.  Will  you 
come  ?  "  I  went  immediately.  On  reaching  his  house  and 
entering  his  bedroom,  his  wife  said,  "  You  are  too  late  ;  he 
is  dead  ! "  Softly  I  moved  forward  to  the  bed,  and  looking 
on  that  face  once  more,  I  thought  that  I  could  still  see 
signs  of  life.  Pressing  his  cold  hand,  I  spoke  a  few  words 
about  the  loving-kindness  of  the  Lord.  He  knew  me,  and 
a  smile  brightened  his  face  at  the  precious  name  of  Jesus. 
While  we  stood  silently  round  his  dying  bed,  he  said 
(evidently  in  reference  to  what  he  had  heard),  "  Not  dead  : 
just  beginning  to  live."  Thus,  with  a  sweet,  triumphant 
smile,  he  departed. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

(Cottage  ilt^^tinga. 

1852. 

UR  steps  were  now  directed  to  another  part  of  the 
parish,  where  we  commenced  a  series  of  cottage 
meetings  in  alternation  with  services  in  the 
church.  These  meetings  were  inaugurated  in  a 
very  remarkable  manner,  in  the  house  of  a  man  named 
"  Frank,"  who  was  well-known  as  an  exceedingly  wicked 
and  careless  fellow.  His  wife  was  among  the  fruits  of  the 
revival,  and  prayed  much  for  him  ;  but  the  more  she  did  so, 
the  worse  he  became.  I  used  to  try  and  comfort  her  with 
the  thought  that  if  he  did  not  give  himself  to  God  to  be 
made  better,  it  was  well  that  he  got  worse,  for  it  was  a  proof 
that  her  prayers  were  telling ;  total  indifference  would  have 
been  a  far  more  discouraging  sign. 

This  was  poor  comfort  to  her,  however,  for  he  came 
home  night  after  night  drunk;  or  if  not  so,  swearing  about 
the  revival  in  the  church,  and  her  praying.  He  often 
declared  that  if  he  ever  caught  me  in  his  house,  he  would 
"give  me  something  for  myself."  He  was  at  all  times  a 
very  irascible  man,  and  being  troubled  with  a  wooden  leg, 
it  made  him  worse.    As  he  was  unable  to  work  in  the  mine, 


THE  STONE-BREAKER.  Hi 

he  was  dependent  for  his  support  on  the  parish  authorities, 
who  employed  him  to  break  stones  on  the  road. 

Notwithstanding  his  bad  temper  and  ill-feeling  towards 
me,  I  always  stopped  at  his  heap  of  stones  when  passing, 
and  talked  to  him  either  about  the  weather  or  some  other 
trivial  subject,  being  quite  satisfied  that  he  knew  the  plan  of 
salvation,  as  I  had  spoken  to  him  about  his  soul  at  the  time 
of  his  wife's  conversion. 

One  day,  when  coming  along,  I  observed  Frank  before 
me  in  the  road,  busy,  as  usual,  breaking  stones,  and  began 
to  think  what  I  would  speak  to  him  about,  having  no  par- 
ticular news  to  communicate.  While  I  was  thus  pondering, 
I  came  to  his  place,  when,  to  my  great  astonishment,  he 
was  not  there.  I  looked  around  on  all  sides,  and  called, 
"  Frank — Frank  !"  but  in  vain — no  one  answered.  There 
was  no  hedge  or  tree  within  sight  for  him  to  hide  behind ; 
where  could  he  be  ?  All  at  once,  I  remembered  that  there 
was  a  small  gravel-pit  about  twenty-five  or  thirty  yards  from 
the  spot,  but  scarcely  thought  it  possible  he  could  be  there. 
I  went  towards  it,  however,  still  calling,  "  Frank — Frank  !  " 
and  yet  received  no  answer.  On  looking  in,  sure  enough, 
there  was  my  man,  lying  down  in  the  pit,  close  up  to  the 
side,  with  his  face  to  the  ground.  I  said,  "  Frank,  is  that 
you  ?    What  are  you  doing  there  ?    Are  you  ill  ?  " 

"No,"  he  replied,  "I'm  not.  What  d'yer  want  with 
me?" 

"  Nothing  in  particular,"  I  said  ;  "  but,  to  tell  the  truth, 
I  was  so  surprised  at  your  disappearance,  that  I  could  not 
pass  on  without  looking  for  you.  I  was  so  sure  that  I  saw 
you  in  the  distance,  sitting  in  your  place  ;  and  then,  when  I 
came  up,  you  were  not  there.  I  wondered  whether  I  had 
seen  your  ghost  instead  of  you,  and  whether  you  were  dead, 
or  what.    Are  you  hiding  away  from  me  ?  " 

Rising  up,  he  said,  "  I  had  a  terrible  dream  last  night, 
6 


112  FROM  DEA  TH  INTO  LIFE. 

which  frightened  me  very  much.  A  voice  said,  '  Go  and 
see  Mr.  Haslam  about  your  soul'  I  said,  'I  will,  I  will, 
the  first  thing  in  the  morning.'  When  the  morning  came,  I 
thought  the  evening  would  do  ;  and  when  I  saw  you 
coming,  it  made  me  tremble  so,  that  I  got  up  and  hid 
myself  here."  .  , 

I  said  "  Frank,  it  is  no  use  for  you  to  fight  against  God, 
or  stand  out  against  your  wife's  prayers.  You  had  far 
better  give  in."  .  . 

He  then  told  me  that  his  dream  referred  to  something 
in  his  past  life,  and  sitting  down  on  the  bank  or  side  of  the 
gravel-pit,  he  said,  "When  I  was  ill  with  my  leg  (which  was 
taken  off),  the  doctor  told  me  that  I  should  die.  I  hen 
cried  to  the  Lord  to  have  mercy  on  me,  and  said  that  if  He 
would  raise  me  up,  I  would  give  my  heart  to  Him.  I  began 
to  recover  from  that  day,  and  kept  on  intending  and  intend- 
ing to  give  my  heart  to  God;  but  I  never  did  it.  I  got 
quite  well  in  health,  but  ever  since  that  time  I  have  been 
netting  worse  and  worse  in  mind.  When  my  wife  was  con- 
verted, it  seemed  as  if  the  devil  took  possession  of  me  alto- 
eether  and  the  Lord  warned  me  again  last  night.' 

"  Come  now,"  I  said,  "  you  had  better  kneel  down  here 
and  give  up."  It  was  a  lonely  road  on  a  bare  common. 
.<  Kneel  down,"  I  repeated,  "  and  let  us  pray."  He  did  so, 
and  after  prayer  he  said,  "  By  God's  help,  ^^^^f^^ 

«  No  "  I  replied,  "  that  will  not  do.  Say,  Lord,  take 
niy  heart.    /  do  '-not  '  /  unll '-'  give  up  ' " 

After  a  short  pause,  he  solemnly  said,  "I  do,  Lord, 
take  mv  heart !  "  and  then  began  to  cry. 

iZe  him  the  text,  "  God  so  loved  the  world  that  He 
gave  His  only-begotten  Son,  that  whosoever  be l-eth  - 
Him  should  not  perish,  but  have  ever  astmg  hfe  (John 
m  i6).  "Think  over  that,"  I  said,  "and  come  to  the 
schoolroom  to-night."    He  did  so,  and  was  saved,  to  the 


« STRIKE  MY  LIMBS'.  "  1 13 

great  joy  of  his  soul.  After  the  meeting  was  over,  he 
remained  behind  a  long  time,  and  gave  vent  to  his  feelings 
with  tears,  when  he  remembered  the  goodness  of  God  to 
him. 

"This  wooden  leg  of  mine,"  he  said,  "is  a  moniment 
of  God's  mercy  I  " 

"How  is  that?"  I  inquired. 

"  Several  years  ago,"  he  said,  "  I  was  playing  cards  for 
money  in  a  public-house,  and  was  cheating  in  order  to 
win,  when  the  man  I  was  playing  with  said,  '  You  would 
not  have  won  that  money  if  you  had  not  cheated.'  I  swore 
at  him,  and  said,  '  God  strike  my  limbs  if  I  did  so ! "  I 
knew  I  had ;  and  the  man  would  not  believe  that  I  had 
not.    So  we  parted. 

"  The  next  morning,  I  was  working  in  the  mine,  close  to 
a  very  large  piece  of  rock,  which  had  been  loosened  with 
the  blasting,  when  it  slipped  from  its  place,  and  carried  me 
along  with  it  into  the  shaft.  As  the  heavy  end  was  upper- 
most, it  turned  with  its  own  weight,  and  fell  across  the 
shaft,  pinning  me  against  the  side.  This  rock  was  not  less 
than  two  or  three  tons  weight.  Notwithstanding  the  fearful 
shock,  I  retained  my  senses ;  but  one  leg  was  smashed,  and 
the  other  severely  wounded.  '  God  struck  my  limbs  ! '  I 
cried  for  help ;  and  when  the  men  who  were  attracted  by 
my  screams  found  me,  they  saw  at  once  that  it  was  im- 
possible to  extricate  me  without  moving  the  rock.  There  I 
remained  for  more  than  two  hours,  till  they  had  put  a  sling 
round  my  body.  Having  done  that,  they  adjusted  a  strong 
chain  to  the  rock,  and  lifted  the  end.  As  soon  as  they 
succeeded  in  raising  it,  down  it  went,  carrying  plats,  ladders, 
and  all  before  it,  to  the  bottom  of  the  shaft,  which  was 
many  fathoms  deep,  whilst  I  was  left  hanging  in  the  sling. 
They  then  drew  me  up,  and  took  mc  to  the  hospital,  where 
one  leg  was  taken  off  and  the  other  set ;  but  I  was  very  ill 


114  FROM  DEATH  INTO  LIFE. 

for  a  long  time.  Oh,  just  think,  if  that  rock  had  not  pinned 
my  legs  to  the  wall  of  the- shaft,  I  should  have  been  in  hell 
now  !  The  Lord  saved  my  life  then— and  has  saved  my 
soul  now  ! " 

Dear  Frank  became  a  very  zealous  Christian,  and  for 
many  years  preached  the  Gospel  with  much  power  and 
acceptance.  After  his  conversion,  he  came  one  morning 
to  beg  my  pardon  for  having  forbidden  me  his  house,  and 
to  ask  if  I  would  come  and  hold  a  meeting  there  for  his 
neighbours. 

I  did ;  and  there  was  such  a  crowd  inside,  and  also 
outside  the  house,  and  so  much  blessing,  that  I  was  not 
satisfied  with  one  visit,  but  went  again  and  again. 

The  place  was  most  inconveniently  full ;  they  turned 
out  the  chairs  and  tables  to  make  standing-room  inside,  and 
opened  the  windows  and  doors  for  the  people  to  hear  out- 
side ;  and  sometimes,  before  the  address  was  over,  men 
and  women  cried  aloud  for  mercy.  We  could  not  kneel 
down  to  pray — praying,  singing,  and  hearing  was  done 
standing,  and  that  very  close  together.  The  house  was  so 
uncomfortably  thronged,  that  a  miller  in  the  neighbour- 
hood, who  had  a  large  room  in  the  mill,  begged  me  to 
come  and  preach  there  instead.  I  accepted  his  invitation, 
and  we  went ;  but,  alas  !  there  was  no  power  there  ;  it  was 
hard  to  pray  or  preach ;  and  the  people  were  not  even 
attentive.  Thus  it  was  clearly  seen  that  it  is  not  by  might 
or  by  power  of  men,  but  by  the  Spirit  of  the  Lord;  and  that 
if  the  Lord  was  not  present  to  work,  no  work  was  done. 
We  went  back  to  Frank's  cottage,  and  there  again  the 
manifest  presence  of  God  was  discernible  ;  and  every  time 
we  did  so  souls  were  saved. 

Next  door  to  Frank  lived  a  tall,  gaunt,  gipsy  kind  of 
woman,  whom  they  called  "  the  wise  woman,"    She  had  a 


THE  "  WISE  WOMAN.' 


"5 


marvellous  gift  of  healing,  and  otiier  knowledge,  which 
made  people  quite  afraid  of  her.  This  woman  took  a  great 
interest  in  me  and  my  work,  and  often  came  to  church, 
besides  attending  the  meetings  at  Frank's  house. 

One  day,  during  these  services,  she  paid  a  visit  to  the 
Parsonage,  and  said,  "  My  dear,  have  you  a  lemon  in  the 
house  ?  " 

I  went  to  inquire,  and  found  that  we  had  not. 

"Well,  then,"  she  said,  "get  one,  and  some  honey  and 
vinegar,  and  mix  them  all  together.  You  will  want  it. 
Mind  you  do,  now,"  she  said,  drawing  herself  up  to  her 
full  height ;  "mind  you  do,  you  will  want  it !  "  Then  she 
put  the  bowl  of  her  pipe  into  the  kitchen  fire,  and  having 
ignited  the  tobacco,  went  away  smoking. 

The  servants  were  much  frightened  by  her  manner  and 
her  warning,  and  begged  of  me  to  get  the  lemon,  saying,  "  It 
was  about  you,  master  ;  it  was  about  you  that  she  came." 

I  did  not  know  where  to  get  a  lemon  within  three  miles ; 
but  it  so  happened  that  a  man  came  to  the  door  with  a 
net  full,  for  sale,  that  same  afternoon.  We  bought  two, 
just  to  pacify  the  servants,  and  let  them  make  the  mixture, 
thinking  nothing  more  about  it. 

In  the  course  of  the  afternoon  a  very  heavy  thunder, 
storm  fell  upon  us,  deluging  the  roads  and  lanes;  and 
before  it  ceased  I  had  to  go  to  the  meeting.  I  took  the 
precaution  to  put  on  thick  shoes,  and  then  set  off  and 
walked  through  the  rain.  When  I  arrived  at  the  cottage,  I 
thought  my  feet  felt  wet ;  but  they  were  not  cold,  so  that 
I  soon  forgot  all  about  them,  and  went  on  with  the  meeting, 
which  lasted  till  ten  o'clock ;  then  I  returned  home.  On 
taking  off  my  shoes,  I  was  surprised  to  see  how  wet  and 
muddy  my  socks  were.  I  had  been  standing  with  wet  feet 
all  the  evening.  To  guard  against  any  ill  effects,  I  put  my 
feet  in  hot  water  before  going  to  bed.    However,  at  three 


1 16  FROM  DBA  TH  INTO  LIFE. 


o'clock  in  the  morning  I  awoke,  nearly  choked  with  a  severe 
fit  of  bronchitis :  the  thick,  hard  phlegm  in  my  throat 
almost  suffocated  me ;  I  had  to  struggle  for  breath  and  life. 
After  an  hour  or  more  of  the  most  acute  suffering,  my  dear 
wife  remembered  the  lemon  mixture,  and  called  the  servant 
to  get  up  and  bring  it.  It  was  just  in  time.  I  was  black  in 
the  face  with  suffocation ;  but  this  compound  relieved,  and, 
in  fact,  restored  me.  I  was  greatly  exhausted  with  the  effort 
and  struggle  for  life,  and  after  two  hours  I  fell  asleep.  I 
was  able  to  rise  in  the  morning,  and  breathe  freely,  though 
my  chest  was  very  sore. 

After  breakfast,  the  "  wise  woman  "  appeared,  standing 
outside  the  window  of  the  drawing-room,  where  I  was  lying 
on  the  sofa. 

"Ah,  my  dear,"  she  said,  "you  were  nearly  gone  at 
three  o'clock  this  morning.  I  had  a  hard  wrestle  for  you, 
sure  enough.  If  you  had  not  had  that  lemon,  you  know, 
you  would  have  been  a  dead  man  by  this  time  !" 

That  mysterious  creature,  what  with  her  healing  art, 
together  with  the  prayer  of  faith  and  the  marvellous  foresight 
she  had,  was  quite  a  terror  to  the  people.  One  day  she 
came,  and  bade  me  go  to  a  man  who  was  very  worldly  and 
careless,  and  tell  him  that  he  would  die  before  Sunday. 

I  said,  "  You  go,  if  you  have  received  the  message." 

She  looked  sternly  at  me,  and  said,  "  You  go  !  that's 
the  message — you  go  !  " 

I  went.  The  man  laughed  at  me,  and  said,  "  That  old 
hag  ought  to  be  hanged."  I  urged  him  to  give  his  heart  to 
God,  and  prayed  with  him,  but  to  no  effect.  He  was 
thrown  from  his  cart,  and  killed  the  following  Saturday, 
coming  home  from  market. 

Her  sayings  and  doings  would  fill  a  book ;  but  wl:o 
would  believe  the  things? 

She  was  not  always  a  bird  of  evil  omen,  for  sometimes 


RANGE  OF  INFLUENCE. 


117 


she  brought  me  good  news  as  well  as  bad.  One  day  she 
said,  "  There  is  a  clergyman  coming  to  see  you,  who  used 
to  be  a  great  friend  of  yours,  but  since  your  conversion  he 
has  been  afraid  of  you.  He  is  coming  ;  you  must  allow  him 
to  preach;  he  will  be  converted  before  long  !"  Sure  enough, 

my  old  friend,  W.  B  ,  came  as  she  predicted.  He 

preached,  and  in  due  time  was  converted,  and  his  wife  also ; 
but  his  story  shall  come  in  its  own  place. 

The  work  at  Frank's  cottage  stopped  as  suddenly  as  it 
began.  I  cannot  theorize  about  the  subject ;  I  merely  state 
that  so  it  was.  It  began,  it  continued,  and  continued  only 
in  that  house,  and  then  it  stopped. 

Another  remarkable  thing  may  here  be  observed — that 
on  visiting  the  cottages  within  a  limited  distance  round 
Frank's  house,  people  were  softened,  and  it  was  easy  to 
persuade  them  to  yield  themselves  to  Christ.  They  appeared 
to  be  quite  ripe  and  ready.  Just  beyond  this  limit  the 
people  were  as  hard  and  careless  as  ever.  It  seemed  as  if 
the  power  of  God  overshadowed  only  a  certain  spot,  and 
that  all  within  that  were  under  Divine  influence  for  the 
time,  though  all  were  not  converted.  They  acknowledged, 
however,  that  they  felt  the  Spirit's  power  striving  with  them, 
and  they  knew  afterwards  that  it  was  withdrawn.  "The 
wind  bloweth  where  it  listeth." 


CHAPTER  XIV. 


©p^n-atr  ^^rlixc^s. 

1852. 

I.  Perranzabuloe. 

S  the  summer  advanced,  it  was  laid  on  my  heait  to 
go  and  preach  in  the  parish  of  Perranzabuloe, 
where  I  had  ministered  in  my  unconverted  days. 
The  vicar,  however,  would  not  consent  to  my 
having  the  church;  but  he  told  me,  in  writing,  that  he 
could  not  prevent  ray  preaching  on  the  common  or  the 
beach.  I  thanked  him  for  his  suggestion  as  to  the  latter. 
As  soon  as  I  was  able  I  made  arrangements,  and  giving 
due  notice,  went  down  to  the  old  familiar  place ;  but  this 
time  on  a  new  errand,  and  it  was  to  me  a  fresh  start  in  my 
work.  I  took  my  gown  for  this  first  open-air  service ;  and 
on  arriving,  found  many  hundreds  of  people  already  as- 
sembled at  the  appointed  place,  on  Perran  beach. 

After  giving  out  a  hymn,  which  was  most  heartily  sung, 
I  prayed,  thanking  God  for  the  change  He  had  wTought  in 
my  soul,  and  begging  Him  to  show  that  He  had  forgiven 
the  past,  by  bestowing  a  manifest  blessing  upon  the  present 
service.    All  this  was  loudly  responded  to,  in  Cornish 


PREACHING  ON  THE  BEACH. 


119 


fashion,  with  hearty  "Amens,"  and  various  other  ejacula- 
tions to  which  I  was  well  accustomed.  Then  I  read  the 
beginning  of  the  fifth  chapter  of  St.  Luke,  taking  for  my 
text  the  words,  "  Launch  out  into  the  deep,  and  let  down 
your  nets  for  a  draught." 

Having  reminded  the  people  how  hard  I  had  worked 
amongst  them  for  four  years  without  seeing  any  conversions, 
I  went  on  to  show  them,  by  way  of  parallel,  that  Simon 
Peter  had  toiled  all  night  and  taken  nothing,  but  that  when 
he  went  forth  at  the  Lord's  command,  he  enclosed  a  great 
multitude  of  fishes.  "  Here,"  I  said,  "  is  encouragement  for 
us  to  expect  a  blessing  now.  Why  did  Simon  Peter  fail  at 
first  ?  and  why  did  he  subsequently  succeed  ?  Why  did  he 
fail? — I,  Because  he  went  out  in  the  night.  2,  At  his  own 
desire.  3,  In  the  wisdom  of  men.  Why  did  I  fail? — i. 
Because  I  preached  and  laboured  in  the  night  of  my  uncon- 
verted state.  2,  I  laboured  at  the  bidding  of  the  Church. 
And,  3,  According  to  the  wisdom  and  tradition  of  the  fathers. 
Why  did  Peter  succeed  ? — Because,  i.  He  went  out  in  the 
morning.  2,  At  the  Lord's  bidding.  3,  With  the  Lord's 
presence. 

"  I  am  come  (I  was  thankful  to  be  able  to  say)  in  the 
bright  sunshine  of  my  first  love.  Jesus,  the  Saviour,  is  the 
'Sun  of  my  soul,  my  Saviour  dear.'"  The  people  cheered 
me  so  much  with  their  responding,  that  I  felt  as  happy  as 
they.  The  opening  heaven  seemed  to  shine  around  us, 
indeed,  "  with  beams  of  sacred  bliss."  They  shouted  again 
and  again,  "  Glory  to  God  1  Glory  to  God  !  Hallelujah  ! " 
"  I  am  come  now,"  I  continued,  "  to  tell  you,  from  my  own 
personal  experience,  about  salvation  and  the  forgiveness  of 
sins."   "  Yes,  yes  !  "   "  Thank  the  Lord  !  "    "  Bless  Him  !  " 

"  I  am  come,  dear  friends,  at  the  Lord's  bidding.  I  feel 
sure  that  He  put  it  into  my  heart  to  do  so.  Oh,  how  much 
I  longed  to  do  you  good  when  I  was  your  minister;  but  I 


120 


FROM  DEA  TH  INTO  LIFE. 


could  not,  for  I  knew  nothing  about  the  Way  myself.  Now, 
that  I  do,  I  am  constrained  to  tell  you.  The  love  of  God 
within,  and  the  Word  of  God  without,  compel  me. 

"  I  feel  I  have  the  Lord's  presence,  for  He  not  only 
promised  it  where  two  or  three  are  gathered  together  in  His 
name ;  but  also  to  those  who  preach  the  Gospel,  He  said, 
'Lo,  I  am  with  you  alway ! '  His  presence  is  power.  It  is 
His  word  I  bring  you,  not  mine  ;  I  merely  deliver  it.  He 
is  here.  And  be  sure  He  loves  you,  and,  what  is  more, 
takes  a  deeper  interest  in  this  preaching  than  we  can.  He 
died  for  you,  and  shed  His  blood  for  )^our  forgiveness ;  how, 
then,  can  He  do  otherwise  than  take  an  interest  in  the 
delivery  of  His  message,  and,  more,  in  the  result  which  is 
to  follow  ? 

"  When  Simon  Peter  let  down  his  net,  he  was  astonished ; 
mark,  it  \vas  a  net  he  let  down  into  the  deep,  something 
which  enclosed  the  fish,  in  order  that  he  might  bring  them 
out  of  their  native  element,  the  water.  So  I  preach  the 
Gospel,  not  merely  for  the  sake  of  preaching,  but  to  bring 
you  from  the  power  of  Satan,  in  which  we  all  are  by  nature, 
to  God,  that  you  may  receive  the  forgiveness  of  your  sins. 

"  We  read  that  he  enclosed  a  great  multitude  of  fishes  : 
I  have  faith  to  believe  that  the  Lord  will  bring  many  to 
Himself  to  night." 

With  shouting  and  praise  the  address  was  concluded, 
and  prayer  was  offered.  At  the  close,  we  found  at  least 
fifty  people  in  that  great  throng  on  their  knees,  crj'ing  for 
mercy.  It  was  a  most  triumjAant  and  joyful  time,  and  the 
people  were  loth  to  separate.  We  slept  that  night  at  Perth, 
as  that  part  of  the  village  is  called. 

The  next  morning  two  fishermen  came  to  my  lodging, 
bringing  a  large  basket  of  fish  as  a  present.  Their  hearts 
had  been  cheered  the  preceding  night,  and  taking  my  word 


THE  PET  KID. 


121 


in  a  natural  as  well  as  a  spiritual  sense,  they  went  out  once 
again  and  let  down  their  nets.  They  had  gone  out  many 
nights  before  and  taken  nothing ;  but  this  time  their  venture 
was  crowned  with  success,  and  they  came  back  rejoicing  in 
the  Lord,  who  had  shown  them  that  temporal  as  well  as 
spiritual  blessings  come  from  Him.  The  basket  of  fish 
they  brought  me  was  an  acknowledgment  of  their  heartfelt 
gratitude. 

After  breakfast,  as  we  were  walking  on  the  sea-shore, 
under  the  majestic  cliffs  which  have  stood  as  a  wall  against 
the  Atlantic  waves  for  centuries,  we  heard  our  good-natured 
Newfoundland  dog  barking  at  something  on  the  rocks ;  we 
looked  up,  and  behold  !  there  was  an  extiuisitely  graceful 
fawn-coloured  kid,  with  a  scarlet  collar  and  bells,  bounding 
about  playfully  on  the  narrow  ledges  of  the  rocks.  It 
seemed  to  us  to  be  leaping  about  on  the  face  of  the  cliff, 
for  we  could  not  see  the  little  ledges  on  which  it  picked  its 
way.  It  was  quite  out  of  the  dog's  reach,  and  appeared  to 
know  it,  judging  from  the  coquettish  and  defiant  manner  in 
which  it  was  jumping  about,  in  high  glee  at  its  indepen- 
dence. While  we  were  standing  watching  the  pretty  and 
graceful  creature,  a  young  lady  came  out  from  behind  other 
rocks,  and  called  to  her  pet,  which  arched  its  little  neck, 
and  looked  at  her,  then  at  the  dog,  as  if  it  would  say, 
"  How  can  I  come  down  ?  "  I  walked  towards  her,  and  on 
speaking,  found  that  she  knew  me,  and  that  I  had  seen  her 
when  she  was  a  child.  After  a  little  talk  about  the  playful 
kid,  I  asked  if  she  had  been  to  the  meeting;  she  said  "she 
had,  and  she  had  not ! "  I  waited  silently  for  an  explanation. 
Presendy,  she  said  that  her  mamma  had  forbidden  her  to 
go  to  "  such  wild  meetings,"  but  that  her  father  had  asked 
her  to  walk  with  him  under  a  wall  in  the  garden,  where 
they  could  and  did  hear  every  word ;  and  she  added,  "  I 
think  papa  has  found  peace — he  is  so  very  happy  ! " 


122  FROM  DEATH  INTO  LIFE. 

"  And  have  not  you  also  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  Ah,"  she  replied,  "  I  wish  I  could." 

The  more  I  talked  with  her,  the  more  convinced  I  felt 
she  was  in  earnest,  but  that  something  stood  in  the  way. 
She  said  she  did  not  know  what  it  was — that  she  really 
wished  for  salvation,  and  was  willing  to  give  up  everything. 
I  said,  "  Do  you  think  your  mother  would  let  you  return  with 
us  on  a  short  visit?  We  are  just  going  back  to  Baldhu." 

She  said,  "  Mamma  is  not  at  home  :  she  has  gone  away 
for  three  days ;  but  I  think  papa  would  let  me  go.  Shall  I 
ask  him  ?  " 

She  did  ;  and  soon  returned  saying  that  she  might  do  so 
if  we  could  promise  to  bring  her  back  in  two  days.  This 
being  settled,  she  hastened  to  get  her  things  ready,  and  sent 
her  maid  to  fetch  home  her  pet  kid,  which  she  bade  her 
take  great  care  of  during  her  absence  :  then  we  set  off. 

On  arriving  at  our  house  she  went  straight  to  her  bed- 
room, and  there  on  her  knees  implored  God's  mercy,  and 
remained  pleading  and  praying  for  five  hours,  before  she 
found  peace.  Then  she  came  down  among  us,  rejoicing 
in  the  Lord.  That  evening  she  spent  at  the  meeting,  and 
the  next  day  in  visiting  among  the  cottages.  On  the  third 
day,  after  a  happy  visit,  we  took  her  home  to  her  father, 
rejoicing  in  the  liberty  of  the  children  of  God. 

Her  mother  returned  the  day  after,  and  when  she  was 
told  of  the  change  in  her  husband  and  her  daughter  Lucy, 
she  became  exceedingly  angry,  and  wrote,  not  to  thank, 
but  to  forbid  us  the  house ;  also  prohibiting  further  inter- 
course. At  the  same  time,  she  declared  her  intention  to 
get  all  that  nonsense  out  of  her  daughter's  head  as  soon  as 
possible.  She  dragged  this  poor  girl  out  to  parties  and 
amusements  of  every  kind,  against  her  will,  which  had  the 
effect  of  making  her  dislike  them  the  more,  and  caused  her 
to  cleave  steadfastly  to  the  Lord  in  prayer. 


THE  CHIEF  PARISHIONER. 


123 


Six  months  later,  she  was  taken  ill,  and  after  a  few 
weeks'  suffering  she  died,  rejoicing  that  her  sins  were  par- 
doned, and  that  she  was  going  home.  It  was  evident  that 
God  would  not  trust  that  mother  with  a  daughter  whose 
soul  she  was  determined  to  injure.  He  took  His  child 
away  to  Himself. 

2.  ROSE-IN-VALE. 

The  open-air  preaching  at  Perran  led  to  many  similar 
services  there,  and  at  other  places.  I  will  tell  of  two  only, 
to  prevent  sameness,  and  for  fear  of  tiring  the  reader. 

The  former  of  these,  was  at  a  place  called  Rose-in-vale, 
in  the  same  parish,  on  the  lawn  of  the  chief  parishioner. 
He  was  an  uneducated  man,  who  had  risen  from  the  rank 
of  a  common  miner  to  that  of  a  mine  captain.  Being  very 
shrewd  and  clever,  he  had  succeeded  in  accumulating  a 
considerable  sum  of  money  j  and  though  he  and  his  wife 
had  a  very  large  house,  they  chiefly  occupied  Xr^o  of  the 
smallest  rooms.  "  Them  fine  things  up  in  the  parlours,"  he 
said,  he  "made  no  'count  of;"  indeed  he  was  anything  but 
comfortable  or  easy  in  his  state  apartments.  Being  the 
wealthy  man  of  the  parish,  he  sat  on  Sunday  in  the  large 
square  pew ;  but  beyond  gi\"ing  personal  attendance,  and 
that  very  regularly,  I  do  not  know  what  other  heed  he  gave, 
either  to  the  service  or  the  sermon. 

During  this  summer  he  invited  me  to  give  "  a  preaching" 
in  his  garden.  Accordingly,  on  a  fixed  day,  I  went,  and 
tried  to  speak,  but  found  it  most  difficult  to  do  so.  I  know 
not  why ;  but  again  and  again  I  felt  as  though  I  had  lost  the 
thread  of  my  discourse,  and  was  rambling — that  I  was  at  a 
loss  for  words,  and  could  not  hold  the  attention  of  the 
people.  Perplexed,  and  greatly  discouraged,  I  was  not 
sorry  when  the  time  came  to  conclude ;  therefore  I  did 
not  invite  the  people  to  remain  for  an  after-meeting  for 


124  FROM  DEATH  INTO  LIFE. 

prayer.  Several  persons  came  up  and  asked  me  why  I  had 
dismissed  the  assembly.  "Ah  !"  I  replied,  "because  there 
is  no  power.  I  could  not  get  on  at  all ! "  They  were  sur- 
prised, and  said'  they  thought  that  I  had  been  helped  more 
than  usual,  and  were  quite  sure  that  the  Lord  was  working 
among  the  peoplf.  However,  the  congregation  had  gone 
now,  and  could  not  be  recalled.  This  only  made  me  feel 
more  distressed  than  before. 

The  feeling  was  very  strong  with  which  I  had  been  so 
burdened  while  speaking ;  and,  to  add  to  my  perplexity, 
I  observed  three  coast-guard  men,  who  had  come  some 
five  or  six  miles,  behaving  badly,  and  laughing  all  the 
time  (as  I  thought)  at  my  discourse,  to  the  great  discom- 
fiture of  my  preaching.  Open-air  addresses  were  not  com- 
mon in  those  days,  and  for  a  man  to  set  up  (as  some  said) 
and  pretend  to  be  a  second  Whitefield  or  Wesley,  was  bad 
enough,  but  to  fail  was  most  humiliating ! 

Three  years  after  this,  I  was  travelling  outside  a  coach, 
when  a  rough  sailor-looking  man  came  climbing  up  to  the 
top,  although  he  was  told  that  there  was  no  room.  "  Never 
mind,"  he  said ;  "  I  will  sit  on  the  boxes.  I  want  to  talk  to 
this  here  gentleman."  So  saying,  he  perched  himself  on  the 
luggage,  and  offered  to  shake  hands  with  me. 

"  Do  you  know  me  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  Oh  yes,  bless  you,  of  course  I  do  !  Don't  you  remem- 
ber three  coast-guard  men  at  Captain  O  's  garden  ?" 

"Yes,"  I  said,  "indeed  I  do,  and  am  not  likely  to 
forget  them  easily;  they  behaved  so  badly,  and  disturbed 
me  so  much." 

"Well,"  he  continued,  "I'm  one  o'  them.  I  don't 
know  why  we  laughed  and  made  fun,  for  we  all  on  us  felt 
your  words  deeply,  and  went  home  to  pray ;  and  a  few  days 
afterwards  we  were  all  three  converted — that  w^e  were. 


A  T  MOUNT  HA  l^VKE. 


125 


Praise  the  Lord  !  After  that,  we  volunteered  for  the  navy, 
to  go  to  the  Crimee  war.  I've  been  in  some  hot  scenes, 
sure  enough.  One  day  we  got  a  little  too  near  the  Russian 
battery,  and  they  peppered  us  brave — no  mistake,  I  assure 
you ;  they  cut  our  masts  and  rigging  to  pieces,  and  ploughed 
up  our  deck  with  their  shots.  Men  were  being  killed  on 
every  side  of  me.  I  thought,  now  I  shall  see  the  King 
in  His  glory.  My  soul  was  so  happy,  I  expected  every 
moment  to  be  cut  down  and  sent  into  His  presence ;  but 
not  a  shot  touched  me !  I  had  not  even  a  scratch ;  and 
here  I  be,  safe  and  sound,  all  through  mercy  ! " 

.  Thus,  these  three  men,  who  made  me  at  the  time  so 
unhappy,  and  disturbed  me  to  such  a  degree,  turned  out 
well,  after  all. 

Since  then,  on  several  occasions,  I  have  felt  as  dis- 
couraged in  preaching  as  I  was  that  day;  and  though 
again  and  again  I  have  said  that  I  will  not  heed  it,  I  have 
nevertheless  found  it  difficult  to  be  unmoved  under  this 
mysterious  influence.  I  WTite  this,  for  the  comfort  and  con- 
solation of  others  who  are  afflicted  under  similar  circum- 
stances, that  they  may  not  be  cast  down  by  their  feelings. 

3.  Mount  Hawke. 

The  next  occasion  was  very  different,  and  quite  a  con- 
trast in  its  results.  I  was  invited  to  a  neighbouring  parish, 
which  formerly  used  to  be  united  with  Perran  at  the  time 
when  I  had  sole  charge  of  it.  Here,  on  the  appointed 
Saturday  afternoon,  I  found  not  fewer  than  three  thousand 
people  assembled  on  the  common.  They  had  erected  a 
kind  of  platform,  with  a  canvas  awning,  to  shelter  me  from 
the  wind,  which  always  blows  with  more  or  less  violence  in 
Cornwall,  even  when  it  is  not  raining. 

There  I  stood  and  beheld  this  concourse  of  people, 


126 


FROM  DBA  TH  INTO  LIFE. 


evidently  full  of  large  expectation.  I  gave  out  the 
nyran — 

"  Oh  for  a  thousand  tongues,  to  sing 
My  great  Redeemer's  praise  ! " 

This  was  heartily  sung;  and  after  prayer  for  a  blessing, 
I  announced  my  text,  and  spoke  from  the  fact,  that  Christ 
Jesus  came  into  the  world  to  save  sinners.  Upon  enforcing 
this  as  worthy  of  all  acceptation,  I  pressed  the  thought,  that 
the  Lord  Jesus  came  more  than  eighteen  hundred  years 
ago,  and  that  He  is  present  stilly  and  able  to  work  greater 
miracles  than  He  wrought  then ;  for  indeed  He  only  began 
then  to  do  and  to  teach  what  He  is  doing  and  teaching 
continuously  now. 

A  mighty  power  of  the  Spirit  of  the  Lord  came  on  the 
people,  and  several  hundreds  fell  upon  their  knees  simul- 
taneously, and  many  began  to  cry  aloud  for  mercy.  The 
strange  part  was,  that  the  power  of  the  Lord  appeared  to 
pass  diagonally  through  the  crowd,  so  that  there  was  a  lane 
of  people  on  their  knees  six  or  eight  feet  deep,  banked  up 
on  either  side  by  others  standing.  It  extended  from  the 
left-hand  corner  near  me,  to  the  right-hand  corner  in  the 
distance. 

It  was  quite  impossible  to  go  on  preaching,  so  I  gave 
out  a  hymn,  and  then  went  in  among  "  the  slain  of  the 
Lord."  After  about  an  hour,  some  one  suggested  that  we 
should  go  to  the  school-room,  as  it  was  getting  dark.  The 
clergyman  of  the  parish  was  on  horseback  in  the  lane  close 
by,  watching  proceedings.  I  asked  him  if  we  could  have 
the  use  of  the  school-room.  "  Oh  yes,"  he  said  ;  "  yes, 
certainly — certainly — anything."  He  seemed  very  frightened. 
The  men  and  women  in  distress  of  soul  were  led  to  the 
room,  crying  and  praying  as  they  went.  When  I  reached 
the  place,  I  found  it  impossible  to  get  in,  for  it  was  already 
full,  besides  a  throng  standing  at  the  door.    I  was  taken  to 


IN  THE  SCHOOL.ROOM. 


127 


a  window  at  last,  and  getting  in  through  that,  I  stood  on 
the  schoolmaster's  table,  which  was  near. 

Against  the  wall  the  men  had,  in  miners'  fashion,  set 
up  with  clay  some  candles,  which  were  beginning  to  bend 
over  with  the  heat  of  the  room.  The  place  was  densely 
packed,  and  the  noise  of  the  peoj^le  praying  for  mercy  was 
excessive.  I  could  do  no  more  than  speak  to  those  who 
were  near  me  round  the  table.  As  they  found  peace  one 
by  one,  and  were  able  to  praise  God,  we  asked  them  to  go 
out  and  let  others  come.  In  this  way  the  meeting  went  on 
till  ten  o'clock,  when  I  left ;  and  it  continued  to  go  on  all 
night  and  all  the  next  day  without  cessation.  It  will  scarcely 
be  credited,  but  that  same  meeting  was  prolonged  by  suc- 
cessive persons  without  any  intermission,  day  or  night,  till 
the  evening  of  Sunday,  the  eighth  day  after  it  began.  This 
kind  of  thing  was  not  unusual  in  Cornwall,  for  we  had  the 
same  in  our  school-room  at  Baldhu  for  three  days  and 
nights ;  but  eight  days  is  the  longest  period  of  which  I  have 
any  personal  knowledge. 

I  went  again  and  again  to  see  how  they  were  going  on ; 
but  the  people  were  too  absorbed  to  heed  my  presence ;  and 
those  who  were  then  seeking  mercy  were  strangers  to  me, 
and  had  not  been  present  at  the  service  on  the  previous 
Saturday. 


CHAPTER  XV. 


3BrahJin0-room  ilt^rfings. 

1852-3- 

ROM  that  time  I  did  not  confine  myself  so  much 
to  my  own  church,  but  frequently  went  out  to 
preach  in  other  places,  as  opportunities  occurred ; 
and  these  were,  for  the  most  part,  brought  about 
by  remarkable  and  unsought-for  incidents. 

One  Sunday  a  lady  and  gentleman  came  to  my  church 
from  one  of  the  neighbouring  towns ;  they  were  professors 
of  religion,  and  members  of  some  Dissenting  body.  My 
sermon  that  evening  was  upon  wheat  and  chaff — the  former 
was  to  be  gathered  into  the  garner,  the  latter  burned  with 
fire  unquenchable.  I  said  that  we  were  all  either  one  or 
the  other— to  be  gathered  or  burned.  They  went  away 
very  angry,  and  complained  one  to  another  of  my  want  of 
charity;  they  also  remarked  that  I  took  good  care  to  let 
the  people  know  that  I  was  not  amongst  the  chaff  which 
was  to  be  burned.  The  arrows  of  the  Lord  had  evidently 
found  them,  and  had  pierced  the  joints  in  their  harness. 
They  could  not  sleep  all  night  for  anger  and  distress.  In 
the  morning  the  gentleman  rose  early,  and  before  breakfast 
had  his  horse  out,  and  galloped  over  eight  miles  to  see  me. 


"HE  WOUNDS  TO  HEAL." 


129 


He  came  with  the  intention  of  finding  fault,  but  instead  of 
this  he  burst  into  tears,  and  told  me  that  he  was  the 
greatest  of  sinners. 

He  was  in  sore  distress,  which  increased  all  the  more  as 
he  gave  vent  to  his  feelings.  I  could  not  help  rejoicing, 
and  told  him  that  God  had  wounded  him,  but  that  He  only 
wounds  to  heal,  and  kills  to  make  alive. 

"Ah,"  he  said,  "that  is  the  first  thought  of  comfort  I 
have  had ;  it  is  like  balm  to  my  soul." 

We  knelt  down  and  prayed ;  then  I  had  the  privilege  of 
leading  him  to  Christ,  and  we  praised  God  together. 

I  gave  him  some  breakfast,  and  after  that  rode  back 
with  him  to  see  his  wife,  whom  he  had  left  in  the  morning 
in  great  trouble  of  mind.  We  found  her  up,  and  rejoicing. 
It  was  most  touching  to  witness  the  mutual  surprise  and  joy 
of  these  two  loving  ones,  when  they  discovered  that  they 
were  now  united  in  the  Lord. 

She  told  us,  that  afler  her  husband's  departure  she  was 
in  such  terrible  trouble  that  she  got  up  to  pray,  and  that 
while  she  was  on  her  knees  she  saw  a  vision  on  the  bed- 
cover. Before  her  was  printed,  in  large  visible  letters,  "Thy 
sins  be  forgiven  thee;"  she  could  scarcely  believe  her 
eyes,  but  with  her  own  finger  she  traced  the  letters,  and  was 
sure  they  were  there.  Taking  them  as  a  message  from 
Christ,  she  rose  and  thanked  Him,  and  now  felt  quite  sure 
she  was  saved.  I  could  not  help  telling  her  not  to  believe 
in  her  eyes  or  her  visions,  but  in  Jesus,  and  the  fact  that 
He  had  died  for  her.  Having  thanked  God  together,  they 
next  began  to  think  of  their  servants  ;  so  we  sent  for  them, 
and  both  master  and  mistress  told  them  what  the  Lord  had 
done  for  their  souls ;  and  while  we  were  praying,  they  all 
three  cried  aloud  for  mercy,  and  found  peace. 

This  was  the  commencement  of  a  good  work  in  that 
town  by  drawing-room  meetings,  and  many  were  gathered 


130  FROM  DEATH  INTO  LIFE. 

to  the  Lord.  Amongst  the  number  was  the  mayor  of  the 
town,  who  in  his  turn  wished  to  have  a  meeting  at  his 
house.  As  soon  as  I  was  able  to  fix  the  day,  he  invited  his 
friends,  but  on  finding  that  so  many  more  desired  to  come 
than  he  could  accommodate,  he  announced  that  the  meeting 
would  be  held  at  the  Town  Hall.  Great  interest  was  excited, 
and  it  was  soon  evident  that  even  this  building  would  not 
be  large  enough,  so  it  ended  in  the  Temperance  Hall  being 
selected.  The  vicar  hearing  about  it,  wrote  to  protest,  and 
asked  me  to  call  on  him  before  I  went  to  the  place  of 
meeting.  He  said  it  was  bad  enough  for  me  to  come  to 
his  parish  to  private  houses,  but  to  come  to  a  public  room, 
and  that  a  large  one,  was  quite  out  of  the  question. 

I  endeavoured  to  show  him  that  the  lecture  or  address  I 
had  come  to  give  was  not  an  official  or  ministerial  act ;  but 
he  would  not  see  that.  I  also  suggested  that  there  was  no 
law  against  it.  He,  begging  my  pardon,  said  "  The  '  Con- 
venticle Act '  had  not  been  repealed  yet,  and  that  no  one 
could  lawfully  hold  a  meeting  of  more  than  twenty 
persons." 

"  But  surely,"  I  replied,  "  that  is  virtually  repealed  by 
the  '  Toleration  Act.'  A  clergyman  ought  not  to  be  in 
greater  bondage  in  England  than  a  layman,  or  more  re- 
stricted. Anybody  else  can  come  and  preach  the  Gospel 
in  your  parish,  and  you  cannot  hinder  it.  Do  not  hinder 
me.    It  will  do  you  no  harm." 

He  said,  "  I  cannot  conscientiously  allow  it.  It  is 
against  the  Canons." 

"  WTiich  Canon  is  it  against  ?  "  I  asked. 

He  took  down  a  book  and  showed  it  me ;  but  casting  my 
eyes  on  one  before,  and  another  which  followed,  I  found 
that  we  neither  of  us  observed  the  one  or  the  other.  A\Tiy, 
then,  be  so  zealous  about  this?  "  Besides,"  I  said,  "you 
are  not  responsible ;  you  have  not  asked  me,  nor  have  I 


NOTICE  FOR  THE  CRIER. 


asked  your  consent.  Your  conscience  need  not  be  troubled 
about  the  matter." 

"  But,"  he  said,  impatiently,  "  I  am  determined  that  you 
shall  not  preach  in  this  parish.    I  will  inform  the  Bishop." 

I  replied,  that  "  the  Bishop  had  not  any  jurisdiction  in 
this  case  ;  there  is  no  law  on  the  subject.  The  Conventicle 
Act  only  refers  to  worship,  not  to  service  or  preaching." 

He  said,  that  he  "could  see  no  difference  whatever 
between  worship  and  service." 

"  But,"  I  said,  "  I  am  sure  the  Bishop  knows,  and  will 
acknowledge,  the  great  difference  between  these  two." 

Then,  changing  his  tone,  he  said,  "Now,  come,  there's 
a  good  fellow,  don't  preach  at  the  Town  Hall." 

"  My  dear  man,"  I  answered,  "  I  am  not  a  '  good  fellow 
at  all.    I  cannot  give  it  up." 

"  Then,"  he  said,  "  at  least  please  to  defer  your  address 
for  a  week,  till  we  can  get  the  Bishop's  decision." 

He  asked  so  kindly  and  earnestly,  and  made  such  a 
point  of  it,  that  I  consented  to  wait  for  the  Bishop's  answer, 
and  defer  the  preaching  for  the  week.  He  was  very 
pleased,  and  said  that  I  was  indeed  a  '  good  fellow;'  but  the 
praise  I  got  from  him  barely  satisfied  my  conscience,  and  I 
was  ashamed  to  meet  my  friends.  I  had  not  gone  far, 
before  my  courage  failed ;  so,  going  back,  I  said  that  "  I 
must  withdraw  my  consent  to  defer  the  meeting.  I  will 
take  the  consequences  and  responsibilities,  and  go  on." 

"  No,  no,"  said  the  vicar,  "  I  will  arrange  for  the  post- 
ponement of  your  meeting.  Look  here,  I  have  written  out 
a  notice  for  the  crier  ;  he  shall  go  round  the  town  at  once, 
and  tell  the  people  that  the  meeting  is  unavoidably  deferred 
for  a  week." 

I  was  very  reluctantly  persuaded  to  yield,  and  then  went 
to  my  friend  and  told  him  what  I  had  done.  He  was  very 
much  vexed  with  me,  and  said,  "  Then  we  must  go  at  once 


:32  FROM  DEATH  INTO  LIFE. 


and  tell  the  mayor  before  he  hears  the  crier."  We  did  so, 
and  found  that  this  personage  was  disappointed  too,  and 
advised  me  to  go  away  out  of  sight  of  the  people.  Accord- 
ingly, my  friend  and  I  went  to  a  house  which  commanded  a 
good  view  of  the  town  and  principal  streets,  from  whence 
we  could  see  the  people  assembling  and  dispersing.  A 
large  gang  of  them  stood  opposite  my  friend's  house,  and 
asked  if  I  would  not  preach  to  them  in  the  open  air ;  and 
when  they  ascertained  that  the  vicar  had  hindered  the 
preaching,  they  were  much  exasperated. 

In  the  evening  I  went  back  to  my  o\m  parish,  and  had 
the  usual  service,  which  I  found  very  refreshing  after  so 
much  bickering  about  technicalities. 

The  Bishoi)'s  letter  arrived  in  due  time.  In  it  his  lord- 
ship said,  that  he  "  always  had  entertained  a  great  esteem 
for  me  and  my  obedience  to  authority,  and  highly  com- 
mended me  for  postponing  or  giving  up  my  service  at  the 
above  town."  As  he  did  not  say  a  single  word  of  prohibi- 
tion, I  immediately  wrote  to  the  mayor  to  expect  me  on  the 
following  Tuesday,  "  for  the  Bishop  had  not  forbidden  me," 
and  I  also  wrote  to  the  vicar  to  the  same  effect.  Large  bills, 
with  large  letters  on  them,  announced  that  "  the  Rev. 
William  Haslam  will  positively  preach  in  the  Temperance 
Hall  at  three  o'clock  on  Tuesday  next." 

The  churchwardens  of  the  parish  were  requested  to 
attend  the  meeting,  and  protest,  on  behalf  of  the  vicar, 
and  also  to  present  the  archdeacon's  monition.  They  stood 
beside  me  all  the  time,  and  after  the  service  was  concluded 
they  showed  me  the  archidiaconal  instrument,  with  a  great 
seal  appended  to  it.  They  said  that  they  "  dared  not  stop 
that  preaching,"  and  so  they  took  their  monition  back. 

This  gave  rise  to  a  long  correspondence  in  the  newspapers, 
some  taking  part  on  my  side,  and  some  against  me.  Thus 
the  question  was  ventilated,  and  finally  concluded,  by  a 


TIMES  CHANGED. 


133 


letter  from  some  one,  who  said,  "  The  Bishop  of  Exeter  is 
one  of  the  greatest  ecclesiastical  law7ers  we  have,  and  if  he 
cannot  stop  Mr.  Haslam,  the  question  is  settled ;  for  be  sure 
his  lordship  has  all  the  will  to  stop  this  preaching,  and 
would  do  so  if  he  had  the  power." 

From  that  time  I  never  hesitated  to  preach  the  Gospel 
in  any  parish  or  diocese  where  I  was  invited.  So  few  of 
the  clergy  asked  me,  that  I  was  obliged  to  go  out  in  spite  of 
them,  or,  at  any  rate,  without  asking  their  consent,  and  in 
consequence  of  this,  I  am  afraid  I  became  obnoxious  to 
many  of  my  clerical  brethren.  Since  then  things  are  much 
changed.  The  Earl  of  Shaftesbury  has  succeeded  in  getting 
an  Act  passed  through  both  Houses  of  Parliament,  to  settle 
the  question  about  such  services.  Now  any  clergyman  may 
preach  in  Exeter  Hall,  or  any  other  public  non-ecclesiastical 
building,  without  consulting  the  vicar  of  the  parish.  Besides 
this,  a  general  disposition  has  arisen  amongst  the  clergy, 
from  one  end  of  the  land  to  the  other,  to  have  "  missions,"  so 
that  there  is  no  need  to  work  independently  of  clergj'men,  but 
with  them,  and  very  cheering  it  is  to  be  thus  employed.  It 
was  not  pleasant  to  witness  the  scowl  and  the  frown,  nor  to 
get  the  cold  shoulder.  Thank  God,  times  are  changed 
now ;  but  I  must  needs  tell  of  some  of  the  scenes  I  was  in, 
and  the  opposition  I  had  to  encounter,  during  the  years  that 
are  gone  by. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 


©pjjosition. 

1853- 

HAVE  been  telling  hitherto  of  blessing  and  pros- 
perity in  the  Lord's  work.     Many  more  cases 
might  have  been  mentioned,  and  many  other 
things  of  not  less  moment  and  interest;  but 
enough  has  been  said,  I  hope,  to  show  the  character  of 
the  work,  and  give  some  idea  of  the  amount  of  blessing 
which  attended  it. 

But  it  must  not  be  supposed  that  the  offence  of  the 
cross  had  ceased,  or  that  the  enmity  of  the  carnal  mind  was 
never  stirred ;  indeed,  I  always  doubt  the  reality  of  a  work 
which  moves  on  without  opposition.  On  the  day  of  Pente- 
cost, when  the  Holy  Ghost  was  first  given,  while  believers 
were  rejoicing,  and  sinners  were  pricked  to  the  heart,  and 
some  mocked,  there  arose  the  opposition  of  others,  who 
resisted  the  influence  of  the  Spirit ;  and  being  "  cut  to  the 
heart,"  they  gnashed  with  their  teeth,  and  went  forward  in 
furious  contention  against  the  Lord's  work.  So  it  was 
with  us. 

The  opposition  ran  very  high,  but  I  do  not  think  it  was 
of  malice  or  hatred,  but  rather  "  righteous  indignation." 


CHARGE  OF  BRAWLING.  135 

The  instigators  of  it  were  serious  and  earnest  persons,  who 
verily  thought  they  were  doing  riglit.  They  tried  first  lo 
save  me  from  what  they  considered  was  my  infatuation;  and 
failing  that,  did  all  they  could  to  save  others  from  my  bad 
influence.  "  I  bear  them  record,  that  they  had  a  zeal  for 
God,  but  not  according  to  knowledge."  It  was  just  such  a 
zeal  as  I  had  before  I  was  converted ;  therefore  my  heart's 
desire  was  drawn  out  towards  them,  and  I  made  continual 
efforts  to  win  them. 

One  dear  friend  of  old  time  said  he  felt  "so  hurt" 
because  I  was  changed,  and  often  wondered  why  "  God  did 
not  strike  me  dead  for  all  the  harm  I  had  done  to  the 
Church."  Another  said  that  he  "  should  not  be  surprised 
if  the  very  ground  opened  and  swallowed  me  up  for  my 
fraternizing  with  schismatics.  The  sin  of  Korah,  Dathan, 
and  Abiram  was  nothing  to  mine."  At  the  Clerical  Meeting, 
which  I  attended  notwithstanding  all  this  stir  against  me,  I 
was  beset  on  every  side  with  something  more  than  loving 
reproaches ;  for  evidently  my  old  friends  were  very  much 
grieved,  and  could  not  forgive  me  for  what  they  considered 
the  betrayal  of  Church  principles. 

A  special  meeting  or  synod  of  the  clergy  was  convened 
by  the  Rural  Dean,  to  take  into  consideration,  among  other 
things,  my  defection,  and  to  decide  what  public  notice 
should  be  taken  on  the  subject  of  this  great  scandal.  I 
also  attended  this  meeting,  and  found  my  brethren  in  a  verj' 
angry  and  excited  state.  One  after  another  got  up  and 
made  grievous  charges  against  me,  about  the  proceedings  in 
my  church  and  parish.  The  burden  of  their  distress,  how- 
ever, seemed  to  be  noise  and  excitement. 

They  said  that  "There  was  brawling  in  my  church,  and 
howling  in  my  schoolroom,  women  fainting,  and  men 
shouting  in  a  most  fanatical  manner.  They  had  not  wit- 
nessed these  scenes  themselves,  but  they  were  credibly 


136  FROM  DEATH  INTO  LIFE. 

informed  of  them.  Moreover,  they  asserted,  on  good 
authority,  that  I  preached  a  very  different  doctrine  to  that 
which  was  authorized  by  the  Church.  I  had  declared  that 
there  was  no  salvation  by  the  Church  and  Sacraments,  but 
by  simple  faith  in  Christ ;  that  any  man — it  did  not  matter 
what  his  previous  life  had  been— if  he  only  came  to  my 
preaching,  and  did  as  I  told  him,  would  be  saved."  These, 
and  many  other  such  charges,  were  made  and  supported  by 
shouts  of  "  Hear  !  hear  ! "  and  cries  of  "  Shame  ! "  The 
Rural  Dean  said  he  was  glad  IMr.  Haslam  was  present  to 
answer  for  himself;  he  had  observed  that  I  had  sat  very 
quietly  to  hear  others,  and  he  now  hoped  that  a  patient 
hearing  would  be  given  to  me. 

I  rose,  and  said  I  was  very  thankful  to  be  there,  and  to 
have  this  opportunity  of  testifying  before  them  all  that  the 
Lord  had  converted  my  soul ! 

There  was  a  little  interruption  here,  but  after  a  time  I 
was  permitted  to  go  on.  I  said  that  before  I  was  con- 
verted, I  was  even  more  zealous  than  any  of  them  against 
this  change,  and  greatly  prejudiced  against  it.  I  actually 
flogged  a  big  boy  in  my  school  for  going  to  a  chapel  and 
professing  to  be  converted ;  this  I  did  before  all  the  chil- 
dren, and  he  promised  that  he  would  "  never  be  converted 
any  more."  I  could,  therefore,  well  understand  their  pre- 
sent feelings,  and  said  that  I  was  not  angry  with  them,  but 
rather  prayed  that  they  might,  in  their  turn,  be  enabled  to 
see  these  things  as  I  now  saw  them,  and  be  saved  as  I 
was. 

Upon  this,  there  arose  a  great  disturbance.  The  Rural 
Dean  gave  me  credit  for  candour,  and  said  he  thought  I 
meant  well,  but  that  I  implied  too  much  against  my 
brethren ;  however,  he  had  said  before,  and  would  repeat 
it,  that  I  had  listened  quietly  to  what  others  had  said,  and 
that  now  I  was  entitled  to  a  patient  hearing  a  little  longer. 


RELIGIOUS  ''EXCITEMENTS 


137 


But  this  could  not  be,  for  I  was  stopped  at  every  fresh 
statement  I  made,  and  had  so  many  questions  put  to  me, 
that  I  begged  for  only  one  at  a  time.  I  was  enabled  to 
stand  my  ground  calmly,  and  endeavoured  to  answer  the 
charges  in  order  as  they  were  brought  out.  To  all  appear- 
ance, I  had  to  stand  quite  alone  in  that  tumultuous  party. 
We  had  met  at  twelve  o'clock,  and  after  four  hours  were 
still  in  the  heat  of  the  conflict. 

At  last,  to  conclude  this  extraordinary  meeting,  one  of 
the  clergy  rose  and  said  that  he  felt  it  was  his  painful  yet 
necessary  duty  to  propose  that  "a  vote  of  censure  be  passed 
on  Mr.  Haslam."  It  was  not  seconded,  and  so  fell  to  the 
ground.  Whereupon,  another  rose  "  to  record  a  protest 
against  revival  meetings,  as  contrary  to  the  usage  of  the 
Church."  This  also  failed ;  and  as  no  one  else  had  any- 
thing to  say,  the  conclave  of  divines  broke  up.  What  they 
would  have  said  or  done,  if  I  had  not  attended  to  be  torn 
in  pieces  by  them,  I  know  not ;  all  I  can  say  is,  that  they 
separated  without  eating  me  up.  Some  of  them  came  to 
me  afterwards,  and  seemed  pleased  that  I  had  stood  my 
ground  so  good-naturedly,  and  thought  that  I  had  had  a 
great  badgering. 

The  opposition  did  not  stop  there — sermons  were 
preached  in  several  of  the  neighbouring  churches,  and 
people  earnestly  warned  against  attending  certain  services, 
and  told  not  to  countenance  them  by  their  presence.  The 
'newspapers  also  took  up  the  matter,  and  pubHc  report  was 
not  behind  in  its  usual  exaggeration. 

I  give  here  an  extract  from  a  Letter  I  thought  it  neces- 
sary to  write  at  this  time,  on  "  Religious  Excitement  "  : 

"  Mv  DEAR  Sir, — I  have  been  seriously  considering,  for  some 
time,  the  necessity  pf  making  a  public  statement  respecting  the  work 
of  God  in  this  place  ;  with  a  view  partly  of  drawing  attention  to  an  all- 
important,  though  very  neglected  subject  ;  and  partly  with  a  view  of 


138  FROM  DEATH  INTO  LIFE. 


giving  some  definite  and  authoritative  form  to  the  various  and  varied 
reports  which  are  in  circulation.  It  is  vain  to  pretend  to  know  nothing 
about  them,  and  it  is  equally  vain  to  suppose  that  reports  about  our 
proceedings  are  likely  to  lose  less  by  repetition,  than  those  on  other 
subjects  of  less  moment. 

"I  embrace,  therefore,  the  opportunity  which  your  Sermon  on 
Religious  Excitement  offers,  to  make  a  statement. 

"I  do  remonstrate  against  your  publishing  to  the  world  a  ser- 
mon avowedly  against  'proceedings  connected  with  a  neighbouring 
church ; '  and  that  instead  of  encouragement,  counsel,  and  co- 
operation in  what  I  know  is  the  work  of  God,  I  receive  this  public 
rebuke.  I  make  this  remonstrance  the  more  earnestly,  because  several 
of  the  opinions  you  have  expressed,  are  not,  as  I  believe,  consistent 
w  ith  the  teaching  of  our  Church  ;  and  lastly,  I  venture  to  be  the  remon- 
strant, because  I  am  the  person,  and  mine  the  church,  which  are  the 
objects  of  your  animadversions. 

"  You  hold  deserv  edly  a  high  position  among  us  in  respect  of  rank 
and  esteem  for  your  piety  and  learning  ;  but  at  the  hazard  of  incurring 
the  imputation  of  arrogance,  I  cannot,  I  must  not,  and  I  will  not  be 
unfaithftil  to  the  light  in  which  I  walk,  by  the  grace  of  God  ;  and 
therefore  I  do  simply  and  plainly  protest,  in  the  first  place,  against  the 
supposition  that  Excitement  is  a  means  which  I  am  using,  or  an  end  I 
have  in  view;  secondly,  against  the  supposition  that  conversion  is  a 
gradual  work,  which  is  to  be  worked  out  by  Sacraments  and  Means  of 
Grace  ;  and  thirdly,  against  a  teaching  which  supposes  and  actually 
declares,  that  a  person  may  believe,  may  be  pardoned,  may  be  cleansed 
from  sin,  yet  not  know  it. 

"  In  the  sense  in  which  you  censure  Religious  Excitement,  namely, 
as  a  means  to  'force,  as  it  were,  the  Spirit  of  the  Lord,'  and  '  for  the 
purpose  of  strongly  working  on  the  animal  feelings,  etc.,'  it  maybe 
justly  censurable.  Those  who  make  excitement  the  end  and  object  of 
their  endeavours  in  a  religious  movement,  must  soon  find  the  empti- 
ness of  it  ;  they  throw  dust  into  their  own  eyes,  and  will  ever  verify 
your  words  that  '  excitement  lifts  up  for  a  moment  and  then  lets  fall 
again,'  and  that  '  like  dram-drinking,  it  leaves  those  that  indulge  in  it 
weaker  than  before.' 

"Those  who  really  are  engaged  in  the  work  of  God,  and  especially 
conversion  work,  must  meet  with  '  excitement. '  It  is  impossible  for  a 
sinner,  under  conviction  of  sin,  to  remain  in  a  calm  imperturbable 
state,  or  when  the  despairing  sinner  comes  to  a  knowledge  of  that 


THE  PAMPHLET. 


139 


Saviour  who  made  Atonement  for  him,  to  hcl]!  being  cxciled  with  joy. 
Noble  or  peasant,  gentle  or  uneducated,  I  am  sure  there  will  be  cxiilc- 
rneiit,  and  overflowing  joy  and  gladness. 

"A  man  who  never  felt  himself  a  lost  sinner,  and  never  knew 
his  need  of  the  Saviour,  may  reason  gravely  of  the  impropriety  of 
'excitement,'  and  the  man  who  has  never  experienced  the  liberty  of 
deliverance  from  the  'horrible  pit,  and  the  mire  and  clay,' may  seem 
to  be  wise  on  the  subject  of  Christian  joy  ;  but  he  knows  it  not.  The 
outburst  of  joy  in  the  new-born  child  of  God,  is  as  undiscriminating  as 
the  joyous  mirth  of  children.  But  it  becomes  more  subdued  as  the 
child  grows  on  to  '  tlic  conquering  young  man, '  and  more  chastened 
still  when  the  '  young  man  '  attains  to  that  state  which  St.  John  terms 
'father.'  This  I  have  no  doubt  is  the  kind  of  Christian  joy  you 
expect  to  see,  and  without  which  you  are  not  satisfied.*  But,  dear 
friend,  remember  the  perfect  Temple  was  not  built  in  one,  but  three 
days. 

"  We  are  at  foundation  work  ;  and  you  rebuke  us  for  an  unfinished 
temple  !  Your  rebuke  is  not  undeserved  in  one  sense  :  we  ought  to  have 
attained  to  great  advancements,  and  to  have  begun  long  ago  ;  but  God 
has  had  patience  w  ith  us.  In  this  beginning  there  seems  to  be  confu- 
sion to  superficial  observers,  and  there  must  be  'excitement  ;  '  but  this, 
as  I  said,  is  not  the  end  in  view,  or  the  means  we  use.  It  is  not  long 
since  I  could  reason  against  '  excitement, '  and  thought  as  many  do  now, 
that  in  connection  with  religion  it  is  irreverent,  and  unbecoming. 

"Oh,  what  a  snare  is  this  unfeeling  '  propriety!  '  It  is  really  a  dis- 
like of  being  aroused  from  sleep  ;  a  fearful  hugging  of  oneself  into 
apathetic  security,  and  lying  down  in  the  arms  of  the  Wicked  One  for  a 
fatal  slumber.  Oh  that  I  could  '  excite  '  such  persons !  that  I  could  arouse 
them  !  that  by  any  means  I  could  awaken  these  souls  from  the  sleep  of 
death  !  I  would  glory  in  the  censure  and  rejoice  in  the  blame.  Would 
that  I  could  reach  your  heart  and  the  hearts  of  many  of  my  other 
brethren;  that  we  might  unite  together  and  raise  a  louder  call !  There 
shovdd  be  a  more  excited  blast,  as  from  a  trumpet,  to  stir  the  masses 
of  those  who  come  duly  and  regularly  'to  hear  us  every  Sunday,'  a 


*  "  I  write  unto  you,  little  children,  because  your  sins  are  forgiven 
you  for  His  name's  sake.  I  write  unto  you,  fathers,  because  ye  have 
known  Him  that  is  from  the  beginning.  I  write  unto  you,  young 
men,  because  ye  have  overcome  the  Wicked  One." — I  John  ii.  12,  13. 


I40  FROM  DEATH  INTO  LIFE. 

louder,  stronger,  and  more  urgent  and  thrilling  cry,  Repent !  Repent! 
We  want  more  fearless  plain  speaking,  more  personal  appeal.  It  is  not 
refined  to  preach  of  the  grave  and  death,  judgment  and  hell, — it  is 
'  ranting  : '  but  nevertheless  let  us  '  rant ;'  let  us  be  faithful ;  let  us  tell  the 
sinner  that  he  must  die  ;  and  that  he  will  die  in  his  sins  and  perish  for 
ever,  except  he  repent  and  be  converted  that  his  sins  may  be  blotted  out. 
Let  us  tell  him  that  he  '  is  condemned  already,  because  he  hath  not 
believed  in  the  Name  of  the  only-begotten  Son  of  God  '  (John  iii. 
i8)  :  that  '  the  wrath  of  God  abideth  on  him  '  (verse  35).  Instead  of 
arguments  against  '  excitement,'  let  us  have  a  united  cry  against  sin  and 
frivolity  wherever  it  is.  There  is  excitement  against  '  excitement'  now ; 
let  there  be  excitement,  if  you  will,  against  indifference,  and  neglect  of 
religion." 

Many  of  the  proceedings  in  our  parish  were,  I  confess, 
more  tumultuous  than  I  could  justify,  more  noisy  and  excit- 
ing than  I  thought  needful ;  but  I  could  not  control  the 
people.  If  they  had  been  educated  to  ideas  of  propriety 
and  self-control,  the  impulse  of  Divine  power,  which  really 
then  filled  tlicin,  might  have  found  expression  in  a  more 
quiet  and  orderly  manner.  To  hinder  their  rejoicings 
therefore,  though  they  were  considered  so  obnoxious,  would 
have  been  to  withstand  the  Spirit  of  God.  As  the  people 
had  not  been  taught  better,  I  could  not  interfere  with 
them  ;  I  would  rather  bear  the  obloquy  of  mea 

For  instance,  one  day,  by  way  of  change,  I  had  a  meet- 
ing for  the  Bible  Society,  and  invited  some  of  the  clergy 
who  sympathized  with  its  object.  They  attended,  and  others 
came  out  of  curiosity  "to  see  these  revival  people."  We 
had  a  large  gathering,  and  everjthing  began  smoothly.  My 
Scripture-reader,  who  was  naturally  a  most  excitable  and 
noisy  man,  tried  to  do  his  best  before  the  clergy ;  he  spoke 
of  the  sweet  words  which  they  had  heard  from  the  reverend 
speakers  ;  it  was  charming,  he  said,  to  hear  of  a  good  cause 
supported  in  such  "  mellifluous  accents,"  and  so  forth.  He 
got  a  little  wild  towards  the  end,  but  on  the  whole  he  was 


"HERE  GO  THE  POSTES !" 


141 


to  be  praised  for  his  kind  efforts  to  give  a  quiet  tone  to  the 
meeting.  By  this  time,  our  friend  "  Billy  Bray  "  had  appeared 
on  the  scene,  and  gave  us  chapter  and  verse  from  one  end 
of  the  Bible  to  the  other,  on  the  subject  of  "  dancing  for 
joy."  He  propounded  his  theory,  that  if  a  man  did  not 
praise  God,  he  would  not  rise  in  the  resurrection  ;  if  he  only 
praised  God  with  his  mouth,  he  would  rise  like  those  things 
carved  on  the  tombstones,  with  swelling  cheeks  and  wings  ; 
if  he  clapped  his  hands  (suiting  his  actions  to  the  words)  he 
would  have  a  pair  of  hands  as  well  at  the  resurrection ;  and 
if  he  danced  with  his  feet,  he  would  rise  complete.  He 
hoped  to  rise  like  that,  to  sing,  to  clap  his  hands,  dance,  and 
jump  too.  The  worst  of  jumping  in  this  world,  he  said, 
was  that  he  had  to  come  down  again,  but  in  heaven  he 
supposed  the  higher  he  danced  and  jumped,  the  higher  he 
would  be  ;  walking  in  heaven,  to  his  mind,  was  praising  God, 
one  foot  said  "  Glory,"  and  the  other  "  Hallelujah." 

Under  "  Billy's "  original  theories  the  people  were 
warming  up,  and  becoming  a  little  responsive,  and  "  Billy  " 
himself  was  getting  excited.  In  reference  to  some  remarks 
which  had  been  made  by  a  previous  speaker  about  Sam- 
son, he  said  that  he  felt  as  happy  and  strong  as  Samson ; 
then  suddenly  he  put  his  arms  round  me,  as  I  was  standing 
gesticulating  and  making  signs  to  the  people  to  be  still,  and 
taking  me  up  as  he  had  done  once  before,  he  carried  me 
down  the  schoolroom,  crying  out,  "  Here  go  the  postes  ! 
Glory !  hallelujah ! "  It  was  useless  to  resist,  for  he  held 
me  with  an  iron  grasp ;  so  I  remained  still,  hoping  at  every 
step  that  he  would  put  me  down.  I  suppose  he  imagined 
himself  to  be  Samson  carrying  off  the  gates  of  Gaza.  The 
people  got  what  they  called  "happy,"  and  shouted  and 
praised  God  most  vociferously.  I  ga\e  out  a  hymn,  but  the 
joy  of  the  Cornish  people  could  not  be  restrained  within  the 
bounds  of  a  tune,  or  form  of  words.   Some  of  them  became 


142 


FROM  DEATH  INTO  LIFE. 


very  excited  and  unmanageable  ;  only  those  who  have  wit- 
nessed such  scenes  can  understand  what  I  mean.  The  power 
of  God  was  great,  though  the  demonstrations  were  very 
human.  My  visitors  trembled  with  fear,  and  made  their 
escape  as  precipitately  as  they  possibly  could.  To  those 
who  are  not  in  the  power  of  the  Spirit  such  rejoicings 
are  unintelligible;  lookers  on  are  stumbled  or  offended 
because  they  only  see  and  feel  the  human  manifestation, 
and  not  the  Divine  power ;  they  are  like  people  who  get 
all  the  .smoke,  and  none  of  the  warmth  of  the  fire. 

I  made  up  my  mind  for  the  worst,  for  we  had  a  reporter 
there,  and  some  others  who  were  only  too  ready  to  make 
the  most  of  such  a  scene.  Nevertheless  I  would  rather  have 
the  same  thing  over  and  over  again,  than  have  the  most 
stately  and  orderly  ceremonials  conjoined  ^^•ith  spiritual 
death.  These  things,  with  all  their  proprieties,  are  very 
chilling  to  li\  ing  souls,  and  all  the  more  hurtful  because  dead 
souls  are  satisfied  liy  tliem  instead  of  being  disturbed. 

Dear  Mr.  Aitken  was  very  angry  with  us,  when  he  heard 
the  things  which  were  reported  ;  asd,  like  a  good  spiritual 
father,  he  came  over  to  teach  us  better.  He  preached  one 
of  his  own  strong  sermons,  on  the  difference  between  emo- 
tion and  principle,  and  after  beating  us  down  very  hard,  his 
dear  heart  relented,  and  he  tried  to  cheer  and  lift  us  up. 
This  last  is  always  an  easy  thing  to  do  in  Cornwall.  The 
people  soon  responded  to  his  efforts,  and  began  to  praise 
God ;  and  then  he  took  fire,  and  praised  too.  Mutually 
exciting  and  being  excited,  his  powerful  voice  could  be 
heard  above  the  din  of  hundreds  of  shouting  voices.  The 
dear  man  was  happy  in  his  soul,  and  so  was  I,  and  we  did 
not  care  a  halfpenny  for  the  outside  world,  newspapers,  or 
anything  else. 

AVe  had  obloquy  with  opposition ;  and  even  to  my  per- 
sonal friends  I  could  not  give  satisfactory  explanations  of 


THE  ROCK,  CHRIST  JESUS. 


143 


these  things.  One  suggested  that  I  should  read  a  paper  at 
the  next  Clerical  Meeting,  and  give  a  statement  in  exposi- 
tion of  my  views  and  practices.  This  I  consented  to  do, 
and  Mr.  Aitkcn  kindly  helped  me  to  write  it.  On  the 
appointed  day  I  undertook  to  read  it,  on  condition  that  no 
one  interrupted  me  till  I  had  finished.  It  was  a  hard  task 
for  them  to  sit  still,  but  they  did  manage  to  do  so  ;  and  at 
the  end,  burst  out  upon  me  in  a  volley  of  censure  and 
disapprobation.  I  was  obliged  to  tell  them  that  they  were 
not  converted,  and  therefore  could  not  understand  these 
things. 

I  wrote  a  pamphlet  to  show  that  the  Church  of  England's 
teaching  was  based  on  conversion,  and  not  on  baptism  :  and 
that  the  Reformation  was  to  the  Church  of  England  what 
Conversion  was  to  the  individual  reformers.  Taking  my 
own  change  as  an  illustration,  I  said,  that  I  used  to  rest  on 
Baptism  and  the  Church,  and  that  now  I  was  standing  on 
the  Rock,  Christ  Jesus.  Once  I  worked  for  life,  and  now  I 
worked  from  life  ;  that  is,  because  I  possessed  it.  I  declared 
that  this  was  the  characteristic  difference  between  the 
Church  of  England  as  it  is,  and  as  it  was  when  connected 
with  the  Church  of  Rome.  This  pamphlet  would  not 
satisfy  them.  I  then  wrote  and  published  a  letter  to  the 
Archdeacon,  in  which,  in  my  young  zeal,  I  charged  the 
clergy  with  being  unconverted,  and  doing  the  devil's  work 
in  hindering  the  salvation  of  souls,  and  that  they  seemed  to 
stand  on  their  parish  boundaries  and  say,  "This  is  my 
parish,  and  you  shall  not  come  here  to  disturb  the  sleep  of 
death  which  now  reigns."  This  poured  no  oil  upon  the 
waters. 

I  then  wrote  another  pamphlet  upon  which  I  spent 
much  time,  thought,  and  prayer.  I  took  the  manuscript 
and  read  it  to  Mr.  Aitken.  He  walked  up  and  down  in  his 
large  room,  while  I  was  reading,  and  ejaculated,  as  only  he 


144 


FROM  DEATH'  INTO  LIFE. 


could,  "  Bless  God  !  Glory  be  to  God  !  "  A^Tien  I  finished, 
I  said,  "  Shall  I  print  it  ?  " 

He  said,  "  It  is  worth  printing,  but  it  will  do  no  good. 
It  is  like  a  little  doggie  barking  at  a  dead  elephant.  We 
shall  never  convert  the  Church  as  a  body :  we  must  try  and 
get  at  individuals.  I  am  quite  convinced  we  shall  not  suc- 
ceed unless  we  work  in  this  way." 


CHAPTER  XVII. 


Ifntiittxtiual  ©asis. 
1853- 

N  Archbishop  of  Canterbury,  in  old  times,  con- 
trasted pubUc  preaching  with  personal  dealing  in 
this  way :  \\'hen  we  preach,  it  is  like  dashing 
water  from  a  bucket  upon  so  many  vessels  which 
are  arranged  before  us — some  drops  fall  into  one,  and  some 
into  another,  while  others  remain  empty ;  but  when  we 
speak  to  individuals,  it  is  like  pouring  water  into  the  neck  of 
a  vessel. 

I  gave  up  writing  and  printing  pamphlets,  and  went  on 
as  quietly  as  I  could  with  my  own  work,  looking  out  for 
individual  cases  as  they  presented  themselves  in  the  pro- 
vidence of  God.  In  this  way,  without  fomenting  con- 
troversy or  keeping  up  public  excitement,  I  was  able  more 
effectually  to  impart  my  meaning,  than  by  printed  state- 
ments, which  I  found  were  misunderstood  or  distorted  ;  and 
what  is  more,  I  was  able  to  apply  the  truth  with  an  indi- 
vidual "  Have  you  ?"  It  would  take  more  space  than  lean 
afford  to  tell  of  the  souls  which  were  gained  in  this  way.  I 
will  give  here  only  a  few  instances,  which  are  interesting, 
and  which  will  sustain  the  thread  of  my  narrative. 


FROM  DEA  TH  INTO  LIFE. 


The  first  was  in  the  case  of  one  who  began  an  argument 
on  Baptismal  Grace.  I  asked  him  what  it  was.  "  I  know 
what  converting  or  saving  grace  is ;  but  what  is  this  ?"  He 
did  not  say  more,  than  that  in  Baptism  he  was  made  a 
member  of  Christ,  a  child  of  God,  and  an  inheritor  of  the 
kingdom  of  heaven. 

"  But,"  I  asked,  "  suppose  you  have  not  repented 
and  believed,  what  then?"  Receiving  no  answer,  I  con- 
tinued, "Then,  nothing;  but  the  responsibility  and  the 
name." 

A  few  days  after^vards  he  came  to  me,  saying  that  I  had 
made  him  quite  miserable,  and  asked  me  whether  I  meant 
to  deny  the  necessity  of  baptism.  I  said,  "  Certainly  not, 
but  the  condition  of  faith  and  repentance  must  be  fulfilled. 
Whatever  Baptismal  Regeneration  may  be,  Spiritual  Regene- 
ration is  tlie  work  of  the  Spirit  in  those  who  believe  in 
Christ  Jesus."  After  a  long  talk  and  prayer,  he  appeared  to 
understand  that  a  conscious  change  should  be  wrought  in 
him,  and  a  spiritual  faculty  imparted,  by  which  he  could 
"see  the  kingdom  of  God."  He  remained  for  the  evening 
scr\ice  and  meeting  in  the  schoolroom,  and  was  much 
impressed  with  what  he  witnessed.  Instead  of  going  away, 
he  stayed  with  me  till  after  midnight,  when  he  found  peace 
with  God  (as  lie  said)  in  the  church  where  we  had  been 
praying.  Tlien  he  ordered  his  horse  and  rode  home ;  but 
before  he  set  out,  he  exacted  a  promise  from  me  that  I 
would  not  mention  his  conversion  to  any  one.  I  consented 
to  this,  on  the  condition  that  he  announced  the  change 
which  had  been  wrought  in  hian,  from  his  pulpit  on  the 
following  Sunday. 

A  few  days  afterwards  my  friend  came  to  me  in  a  great 
rage,  and  charged  me  with  announcing  his  conversion  all 
over  the  town.  I  told  him  that  I  was  not  sure  enough  of  it 
myself  to  say  anything  about  it,  and  that  I  had  not  spoken 


A  POPULAR  PREACHER. 


M7 


to  a  single  person  on  the  subject.  Still  he  seemed  to  doubt 
me,  for  he  said  his  brother  had  been  with  him,  and  had  told 
him  that  it  was  known  all  over  the  town  that  he  had  been  to 
Baldhu,  and  that  he  was  converted.  Upon  inquiry,  I  found 
out  that  my  servant,  who  sat  up  till  after  midnight  to  get  his 
horse,  had  overheard  our  conversation,  and  was  the  offend- 
ing party. 

I  am  always  afraid  of  persons  who  are  ashamed  to 
acknowledge  their  conversion.  My  friend,  I  am  sorry  to 
say,  made  no  announcement,  but  went  on  preaching  as  if  he 
had  always  been  the  same,  and  consequently  never  came 
out  to  be  of  any  use  or  help  in  the  work.  His  testimony 
was  indistinct  also,  and  without  any  power.  He  became 
a  very  popular  preaclier  afterwards,  which  was  his  great 
ambition,  for  he  cared  more  for  a  large  congregation  than 
for  winning  souls. 

Soon  after  this,  I  fell  across  another  of  my  old  friends  in 
the  street.  He  tried  to  avoid  me,  but  I  went  up  and  shook 
hands  with  him.  At  first  he  would  not  look  at  me,  and 
said  he  was  afraid  of  me  because  I  had  changed  my  views. 
I  assured  him  that  I  had  not  changed  anything,  but  that  I 
had  myself  been  changed.  As  he  was  listening,  I  went  on 
to  tell  him  that  I  had  long  tried  to  make  myself  good 
enough  for  God's  acceptance,  but  finding  that  Christ  would 
not  receive  reformed  characters,  I  came  to  Him  as  a  poor 
lost  sinner,  and  He  saved  me.  Seeing  that  he  continued 
attentive,  I  was  proceeding  to  make  my  meaning  plainer, 
when  he  turned  round,  and  looking  sternly  at  me,  said,  "  If 
I  understand  you,  I  am  to  cry  for  mercy  as  '  a  common 
sinner.' " 

"  Yes,"  I  replied,  being  very  pleased  to  find  that  he  had 
understood  me  so  well. 

"Then,"  he  said,  "  I  will  do  no  such  thing."  With  this, 
he  turned  away  and  departed.    When  he  saw  that  I  was 


148 


FROM  DEATH  INTO  LIFE. 


following  him,  he  said,  "I  desire  you  will  not  speak  to  me 
any  more.    I  do  not  agree  with  you." 

One  morning,  a  short  time  after,  I  was  praying  and 
meditating  in  the  church,  when  it  came  to  my  mind  forcibly 
that  I  must  go  to  this  man's  parish.  I  rose  from  my  knees 
forthwith,  saying  to  myself  that  I  would  go;  but  imme- 
diately the  thought  came  to  me,  "This  suggestion  is  not 
from  God,  for  He  must  know  that  my  horse  has  lost  two 
shoes,  and  could  not  go  all  that  distance."  However,  I 
returned  home,  and  went  to  the  stable  to  inquire,  when,  to 
my  surprise,  I  found  that  my  man  had  taken  the  horse  out 
very  early  in  the  morning,  and  had  got  him  properly  shod. 
"  He  is  all  right  for  a  long  journey,  master,"  he  said,  "  if 
you  want  to  go." 

"  Well,"  I  said,  "  put  on  the  saddle,  and  be  ready  in 
half-an-hour."  1  went  in  to  prepare,  and  started  in  due 
time.  On  the  way  I  was  thinking  what  I  would  say,  and 
how  I  would  begin  the  conversation,  for  as  yet  I  did  not 
know  the  particular  message  I  was  to  take. 

When  I  arrived  at  my  friend's  gate,  I  saw  the  marks  of 
his  horse's  feet,  as  if  he  had  just  gone  out.  However,  I 
rode  up  to  the  front  door,  and  rang  the  bell.  His  wife 
appeared,  and  said  that  her  husband  had  gone  out,  and 
would  not  be  back  before  six  o'clock ;  she  added,  "  You 
look  disappointed  " ;  and  so  I  was,  for  I  thought  the  Lord 
had  sent  me  with  some  message  to  him.  The  lady  kindly 
asked  me  to  put  up  my  horse,  saying,  "Perhaps  he  may 
return  sooner  ;  you  had  better  rest  a  little."  I  thanked  her, 
and  doing  so,  went  in. 

As  soon  as  we  were  seated,  the  lady  said,  "  I  have  been 
wishing  to  see  you  for  a  long  time  ;  we  have  started  more 
than  once  to  visit  you,  when  my  husband's  courage  has 
failed  him,  and  we  have  returned.  He  says  that  he  loves 
you  still ;  but,  somehow,  he  is  very  much  afraid  of  you." 


EFFECT  OF  AN  ACCIDENT.  149 


Then  she  went  on  to  tell  me  that  when  they  were  re- 
moving from  their  late  parish  to  where  they  now  were, 
having  sent  all  their  furniture  on,  they  were  driving  in  their 
own  carriage ;  and  that  coming  along  over  a  bleak  and  deso- 
late moor,  the  horse  took  fright  at  something,  they  knew  not 
what,  and  ran  away.  Because  it  could  not  get  along  fast 
enough  from  its  imaginary  object  of  fear,  it  began  to  kick, 
and  breaking  the  carriage  in  pieces,  made  its  escape,  leaving 
her  and  her  husband  on  the  ground.  He  was  not  much 
hurt,  and  soon  rose,  and  came  to  help  her.  She  was 
severely  bruised,  and  her  leg  was  broken  besides.  He 
managed  to  drag  her  gently  to  the  side  of  the  road,  where 
there  was  a  little  bank,  and,  collecting  some  of  the  broken 
pieces  of  the  carriage,  he  placed  them  round  her  for  protec- 
tion, and  hurried  off  in  order  to  get  assistance.  He  had 
to  go  two  miles,  and  was  absent  nearly  three  hours.  During 
that  time  she  suffered  great  pain,  but  it  came  to  her  mind 
all  at  once  that  her  sins  were  pardoned ;  she  was  exceed- 
ingly happy,  and  could  not  help  thanking  and  praising  God. 
In  this  state  her  husband  found  her  when  he  returned,  and 
on  hearing  her  talk,  became  very  unhappy,  because  he 
thought  tlmt  besides  her  leg,  her  head  was  broken  too ;  and 
that  she  was  going  out  of  her  mind.  She  assured  him  over 
and  over  again,  that  she  was  wonderfully  well,  and  really 
happy  ;  but  he  could  not  bear  to  hear  her  talk  like  that, 
and  said  that  he  should  go  mad  also,  if  she  did  not  stop. 

During  the  six  weeks  she  was  laid  up,  he  continually 
brought  doctors  and  clergymen  to  talk  her  out  of  her  delu- 
sion, as  he  thought  it,  but  without  avail.  Her  happiness 
continued  for  several  months,  and  then  gradually  died 
away.  She  asked  me,  "  Can  you  tell  me  the  meaning  of 
this  ?  "  I  was  deeply  interested  with  her  experience,  and 
told  her  that  I  had  read  of  a  similar  one  only  a  few  days 
before. 


ISO  FROM  DEATH  INTO  LIFE. 

RTy  heart  now  began  to  cheer  up,  for  I  saw  why  I  had 
been  sent  to  tliis  place.  I  at  once  pointed  her  to  passages 
of  Scripture,  where  we  are  told  that  we  have  forgiveness  of 
sins  through  the  blood  of  Jesus,  and  I  put  Christ  crucified 
before  her  as  the  object  of  faith.  I  told  her,  that  as  cer- 
tainly as  the  blood  of  Jesus  had  been  shed,  there  was  mercy 
and  forgiveness  for  her.  I  said,  "I  believe  it,  and  have 
forgiveness:  and  you  may  have  it  too;  not  because  you 
feel  happy,  but  because  Jesus  died."  She  did  believe,  and 
we  rejoiced  together. 

She  exclaimed,  "  Oh  that  the  Lord  would  change  my 
husband's  heart,  and  bring  you  here  for  a  revival ! " 

"  Very  well,"  I  said,  "let  us  ask  Him,"  and  we  did  so. 
I  then  rode  home  praising  God. 

Before  leaving,  I  promised  to  come  again  on  the  follow- 
ing Wednesday.  I  kept  my  word,  and  had  an  interview 
with  her  husband ;  but  it  was  not  encouraging.  He  said 
he  could  not  agree  to  ask  for  mercy  as  a  sinner,  because 
he  had  been  baptized.  Some  months  aftenvards,  his  man- 
servant came  to  me  on  horseback  at  three  o'clock  in  the 
Homing,  to  say  that  his  master  was  very  bad,  and  would 
I  come  as  soon  as  possible  and  see  him.  I  asked,  "^at 
is  the  matter  ?  "  "  Oh,  bless  the  Lord,"  said  the  man,  "  it's 
all  about  his  soul  ! "  "That  is  right,"  I  replied,  thanking 
God;  "I  will  go  with  you  at  once,"  and  immediately  I 
saddled  my  horse,  and  rode  back  with  him. 

I  found  my  friend  was  under  deep  conviction,  and  in 
the  greatest  misery ;  he  now  thought  that  he  was  a  most 
uncommon  sinner;'  and  that  there  was  no  mercy  for  him, 
there  could  not  be  any  !  After  a  time  he  acknowledged  the 
power  of  God  to  forgive  sin,  and  declared  that  he  believed 
in  Christ,  and  I  was  led  to  say,  "  he  that  believeth  hath 
everlasting  life."  Upon  this  te.\t  he  found  peace,  and  we 
all  praised  God  together. 


ANOTHER  REVIVAL.  151 

The  Sunday  following,  he  asked  the  congregation  to 
thank  God  with  him  for  having  saved  his  soul ;  and  in  his 
sermon  told  them  something  of  his  experience.  Subse- 
quently his  church  became  the  centre  of  a  work  of  God, 
as  Mr.  Aitkcn's  church  and  mine  were  in  our  respective 
neighbourhoods. 

The  power  of  the  Lord  overshadowed  the  place,  and 
there  was  as  usual  a  simultaneous  melting  of  hearts  all  over 
the  parish,  and  a  running  together  of  the  people  to  hear 
the  Word,  and  what  is  better  to  obey  it.  Then  followed  a 
true  Cornish  revival  with  full  manifestations,  and  Mr.  Aitken 
came  to  preach.  The  fire  was  burning  and  shining  before  ; 
but  when  this  mighty  man  stirred  it,  it  rose  to  a  tremendous 
height.  The  excitement  of  the  parson  and  people  was 
intense,  and  hundreds  of  souls  were  added  to  the  Church, 
who  had  been  brought  from  the  death  of  sin  into  the  life  of 
righteousness,  which  all  the  previous  preaching  on  Baptism 
and  the  Lord's  Supper  had  failed  to  produce. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

1853- 

EXT,  I  will  tell  of  a  clerg)-man  who  was  alto- 
gether different  to  the  others  I  have  mentioned. 
He  was  one  to  whom  I  was  much  attached, 
although  we  were  diametrically  opposed  to  one 
another,  especially  in  my  Puseyite  days.  He  was  Evange- 
lical ;  I  was  High  Church ;  consequently,  we  fell  out  more 
or  less,  at  every  meeting,  though  we  never  really  quarrelled. 
After  my  conversion,  I  made  sure  this  friend  would  sym- 
pathize with  me ;  but  I  found  to  my  disappointment  he  was 
in  reality  more  opposed  now  than  before,  because  I  had 
become,  as  he  called  it,  "  a  dissenter."  He  would  scarcely 
speak  to  me,  and  said,  he  was  not  so  sure  of  my  conver- 
sion as  I  was,  that  he  would  give  me  seven  years  to  prove 
it,  and  then  pronounce. 

I  said,  "  You  are  an  old  bachelor,  and  know  nothing 
about  the  treatment  of  babies ;  we  do  not  put  our  babies 
out  on  the  lawn  for  seven  days  before  we  decide  whether 
they  are  born  or  not ! " 

He  could  not  resist  joining  in  the  laugh  against  his  in- 
experience in  this  respect,  although  he  was  not  over-pleased. 


DEATH,  AND  GRAVE  CLOTHES.  153 


With  all  his  head-knowledge  of  Gospel  truth,  he  had  not 
seen  anything  of  the  work  of  the  Spirit,  and  moreover,  like 
too  many  others,  could  not  distinguish  between  death  and 
gravc-clothcs.  Because  I  announced  some  sacramental  views 
after  my  conversion,  he  fancied  that  I  must  be  dead  still  j 
whereas  these  were  only  the  grave-clothes  in  which  I  used 
to  be  WTapped.    We  shall  speak  more  of  this  hereafter. 

One  day,  he  came  to  me  and  said,  "  I  have  been  think- 
ing for  some  time  that  I  should  like  to  come  to  your 
church  one  Sunday,  and  see  your  work." 

I  agreed  to  this  with  thanks,  as  the  first  sign  of  sym- 
pathy I  had  found  in  him,  and  said,  "  Shall  I  go  and  take 
your  services  in  exchange  ?  " 

"  Oh  no,  certainly  not ;  I  wish  you  to  be  present  in  your 
own  church.  I  will  preach  in  the  morning ;  and  in  the 
evening  I  will  be  there  to  see  and  hear  you."  We  soon 
fixed  upon  the  day. 

He  came  to  dinner  with  us  the  previous  Saturday,  but 
before  he  would  sit  down  he  must  needs  go  into  the 
Church,  and  adjust  the  height  of  the  pulpit,  and  see  that 
all  other  things  were  to  his  taste.  He  asked  me  if  I  would 
remove  the  candlesticks  from  the  communion  table,  and  let 
him  preach  in  a  black  gown.  These  were  all  matters  of 
indifference  to  me  now,  so  I  readily  acceded  to  his  wishes. 
Having  completed  his  arrangements,  we  spent  a  very  plea- 
sant evening  together,  talking  over  the  work  in  the  jilacc, 
and  then  went  to  the  weekly  prayer-meeting ;  but  he  took 
no  part  On  Sunday  morning  the  service  was  conducted  at 
his  request,  in  the  usual  manner,  excepting  that  he  stood 
away  in  the  eastern  corner  of  the  north  side  of  the  table, 
"  scrootching  "  away  like  a  Papist,  as  the  people  described 
it.  They  had  been  accustomed  to  see  me  stand  at  the 
western  or  outside  corner  of  the  north  side.  He  was  nmch 
amused  at  this  criticism. 


'54 


FROM  DEATH  INTO  LIFE. 


Then  he  went  into  the  vestry,  having  asked  for  an  inter- 
lude on  the  organ  before  the  last  verse  of  the  Psalms  (for 
we  sang  the  metrical  version  in  those  days),  and  while  this 
was  being  played  he  came  sailing  out  again,  and  swept  up 
the  steps  into  the  pulpit.  He  gave  us  an  excellent  sermon 
— preached,  as  the  Cornish  say,  "  to  a  form,"  that  is  with  a 
manuscript  before  him ;  though  he  did  not  look  at  it  much. 
He  showed  it  to  me  afterwards ;  it  certainly  was  a  curious 
thing,  done  in  cyphers  and  hieroglyphics  of  his  own  ;  again 
and  agam  there  appeared  a  figure  with  two  horns  and  a 
tail ;  this,  he  told  me,  stood  for  Satan ;  there  were  also  many 
other  striking  signs.  He  preached  with  far  more  animation 
than  he  was  wont,  and  towards  the  end  of  his  sermon 
seemed  to  forget  his  manuscript  altogether,  and  leaned  over 
the  front  of  the  pulpit,  gesticulating  with  his  hands,  and 
looking  at  the  people.  They  got  very  excited,  and  followed 
every  sentence  with  some  response,  till  he  became  excited 
also.  When  he  came  down  from  the  pulpit,  he  said  that  he 
had  never  preached  with  such  help  before ;  he  had  quite 
enjoyed  his  own  sermon,  and  that  now  he  thought  he  under- 
stood the  secret  of  what  I  called  being  "converted." 

He  came  in  the  afternoon  to  the  catechising  of  the 
children,  and  expressed  himself  very  pleased  with  their 
behaviour,  and  readiness  in  answering  questions. 

In  the  e^'ening,  he  sat  in  a  part  of  the  church  where  he 
could  see  the  congregation,  and  the  preacher,  and  so  make 
his  desired  observations.  The  service  was,  perhaps,  a  little 
more  animated  than  usual,  and  the  sermon  may  have  been 
the  same.  After  this  was  over,  he  went  with  me  into  the 
schoolroom,  where  he  heard  the  people  pray,  and  also 
thank  God  for  the  morning  sermon.  Several  souls  were 
brought  in  that  evening. 

About  ten  o'clock  at  night  we  returned  home,  when  my 
friend  declared  he  had  never  known  a  day  like  this  in  all 


''LIKE  THE  WAVES  OF  THE  SEA."  155 


his  ministry,  and  never  heard  of  such  things  as  he  liad  seen. 
"  Your  congregation,"  he  said,  "  is  Hke  the  waves  of  the 
sea,  and  mine  hke  a  glassy  mill-pond.  Now  I  must  have 
you  come  and  preach  in  my  church.  I  wonder  what  the 
effect  will  be." 

I  agreed,  and  we  fixed  upon  the  second  Sunday,  as  he 
wanted  a  week  to  announce  my  coming. 

I  was  quite  eager  for  the  time,  and  when  Saturday 
arrived,  I  set  off,  intending  to  stay  for  several  days.  On 
Sunday  morning  the  church  was  filled  from  end  to  end, 
the  people  being  on  the  tip-toe  of  expectation.  Many 
anxious  ones  remained  after  the  sermon  to  be  spoken  with, 
about  their  souls.  The  church  was  scarcely  cleared,  before 
the  men  came  to  ring  the  bells  for  the  afternoon  service. 
This  time,  the  passages,  chancel,  pulpit-stairs,  and  every 
available  corner  were  crowded,  and  the  congregation  cer- 
tainly did  not  look  like  a  "  mill-pond,"  but  more  like  "  the 
waves  of  the  sea." 

At  the  close  of  this  service,  the  people  begged  for 
another  in  the  evening. 

The  vicar  said,  "  Oh,  that  is  impossible,  for  I  dine  at  six 
o'clock." 

"  But,"  I  involuntarily  added,  "  do  not  mind  the  dinner ; 
I  can  come,  if  you  like." 

He  gave  me  such  a  look !  I  continued,  "  I  have  had 
dinner  enough  for  to-day.  I  can  take  the  service  alone,  if 
you  are  agreeable." 

*'  But  we  have  no  lamps  for  the  church.  It  cannot  be." 

I  was  silenced  now,  and  gave  up  the  point ;  when  the 
churchwarden  came  forward  and  said  he  would  be  respon- 
sible for  lighting  the  church. 

The  vicar  at  last  consented,  on  condition  that  he  was 
allowed  to  have  his  dinner  in  peace.  As  the  time  ap- 
proached, however,  he  put  off  that  important  meal,  and 


I S6  FROM  DBA  TH  INTO  LIFE. 


joined  me  in  a  cup  of  tea,  after  which  we  went  together  to 
the  third  service. 

This  time  it  was  as  much  as  we  could  do  to  get  in,  and 
when  we  did  succeed  a  most  striking  sight  presented  itself. 
The  whole  church  was  lighted  from  the  pews.  Some  of  the 
wealthier  people  had  lamps,  but  the  others  had  candles,  one 
two,  or  more  in  their  respective  compartments.  From  the 
pulpit  it  looked  more  like  a  market  scene  than  a  church 
congregation.  I  had  liberty  in  preaching,  and  the  people 
were  greatly  moved,  some  of  them  greatly  agitated— indeed, 
so  much  so,  that  the  vicar  thought  he  would  not  have 
another  service  in  the  church,  and  accordingly  announced 
that  the  Monday  evening  meeting  would  be  held  in  a 
building  which  he  named,  in  a  village  about  two  miles  off. 
This  was  a  large  barn-like  structure,  where  they  cured  fish 
in  the  season,  but  at  other  times  it  was  unoccupied. 

The  next  day  happened  to  be  very  wet,  and,  added  to 
this,  in  the  evening  it  began  to  blow  as  well.  Notwith- 
standing this  inclemency,  when  we  arrived  at  the  "fish- 
cellar,"  as  it  was  called,  we  found  it  crammed  with  people, 
the  women  and  children  occupying  the  ground,  and  sitting 
there  on  straw,  which  had  been  provided  for  the  occasion, 
the  men  and  boys  were  sitting  on  the  cross-beams  of  the 
roof  The  heat  in  the  place  was  stifling  beyond  all  descrip- 
tion, for  besides  being  densely  crowded  below  and  above, 
the  wooden  shutters  were  shut,  on  account  of  the  wind  and 
rain,  the  people's  wet  clothes  were  steaming,  and  there  was 
a  strong  smell  of  stale  fish.  At  first  we  felt  as  if  it  would 
be  impossible  to  bear  it,  but  after  a  little  time  we  became 
used  to  the  disagreeables,  and  had  other  things  to  think 
about. 

I  gave  out  a  hymn,  and  after  a  short  prayer  commenced 
the  address,  speaking  as  loud  as  I  could,  that  all  the  con- 
gregation might  hear  me.   During  the  sermon,  the  responses 


"7  IV ANT  GOD'S  MERCY/" 


157 


were  most  vociferous  and  hearty,  and  the  attention  very 
encouraging.  After  speaking  for  about  thirty  minutes,  I 
observed  a  tall,  fine-looking  fisherman,  in  large  high  boots, 
who  had  come  in  late.  He  was  standing  in  the  little  vacant 
space  before  the  table,  on  which  were  placed  two  candles 
and  a  glass  of  water.  I  saw,  as  the  address  went  on,  that 
though  he  was  very  quiet,  his  breast  was  heaving  with 
emotion,  as  if  something  was  passing  in  his  mind.  All  at 
once,  without  a  moment's  notice,  he  fell  on  the  ground,  and 
bellowed  out  a  loud  prayer  for  "  God's  mercy — I  want  God's 
mercy  ! "  Besides  upsetting  the  table — candles,  water,  and 
all — which  went  down  with  a  great  crash,  he  fell  on  one  or 
two  women,  who  screamed,  in  their  fright  and  consternation, 
as  only  women  can. 

If  this  had  been  a  preconcerted  signal,  it  could  not  have 
been  more  effectual,  for  there  was  instantly  a  simultaneous 
as  well  as  an  universal  outer}'.  The  whole  place  was  filled 
with  a  confused  din  of  voices ;  some  were  praying,  some 
singing,  some  shouting,  and  others  exhorting,  and  that  at 
the  top  of  their  voices,  in  order  to  be  heard.  In  the  midst 
of  this  I  began  to  sing  a  hymn,  hoping  to  restore  order,  and 
many  joined  me ;  but  it  only  added  more  sound  to  the 
uproar. 

The  good  vicar  was  overwhelmed  with  fear  and  dismay, 
as  well  he  might  be,  at  this  tumultuous  scene.  It  was  bad 
enough  to  stand  and  look  at  the  waves  of  the  sea ;  but  when 
they  rose  and  broke,  as  it  were,  on  the  shore  where  he  was 
standing,  and  surrounded  him,  it  was  altogether  too  much.- 
He  made  for  the  door,  and,  waiting  there,  beckoned  me  to 
him.  ^Vhen  I  came  he  suddenly  opened  it,  and  drew  me 
out,  saying,  "  There  will  be  no  peace  till  you  are  out  of  this 
place."  The  extreme  change  from  the  hot  cellar  into  the 
cold  and  pitiless  wind  and  rain  was  so  great,  that  we  fled 
precipitately  to  the  cottage  which  stood  opposite.  Happily, 


158  FROM  DEATH  INTO  LIFE. 

the  door  was  on  the  latch,  and  we  went  in.  I  felt  about  in 
the  dark  for  a  chair,  but  not  finding  one,  sat  on  the  table, 
listening  to  the  noise  and  din  of  the  meeting. 

The  vicar  vainly  thought  that  the  tumult  would  subside 
as  soon  as  I  was  gone,  for  he  said  that  I  "  made  as  much 
noise,  if  not  more,  than  any  of  them  ! "  He  went  back  into 
the  storm  to  get  my  hat  and  coat,  and  also  the  inevitable 
umbrella,  without  which  no  one  can  get  on  in  Cornwall. 
He  was  a  long  time  absent,  during  which  a  man  with  heavy 
boots  came  into  the  dark  cottage  where  I  was  sitting,  and 
tumbling  down  on  a  seat  somewhere,  heaved  a  heavy  sigh. 
He  evidently  did  not  suspect  that  any  one  was  there.  After 
sighing  and  groaning  several  times,  he  said  to  himself, 
"What  shall  I  do?— what  shall  I  do?  The  man  is  right, 
sure  enough  ;  he  is  right,  I'm  sure  on  it— that  he  is." 

I  disguised  my  voice,  and  asked,  "  What  man  ?  " 

"  Oh,"  he  said,  "  are  you  there,  neighbour  ?  Couldn't 
yer  get  in  ?  Why,  I  mean  the  man  what's  been  speaking 
inside." 

"What  did  he  say?  " 

"Why,  said  he,  the  devil's  no  fool!'  and  of  course 
he  ain't.  He  has  hooks  in  all  his  baits,  and  I  have 
swallowed  lots  o'  them.  Oh,  what  shall  I  do  ?  what  shall  I 
do?" 

Then  I  heard  him  shuffling  to  his  knees,  groaning  and 
praying.  I  sat  still  on  the  table,  saying,  "  Amen !  amen  ! " 
every  now  and  then,  to  his  prayer,  till  he  became  terribly  in 
earnest,  and  at  last  got  into  a  state  which  the  Cornish  call 
"wrastling  in  prayer."  In  this  condition  he  was  quite  past 
heeding  any  one's  presence.  I  helped  and  guided  him  to 
the  Crucified  One,  and  then  he  found  peace,  and  began  to 
praise  God.  On  coming  to  himself,  he  recognized  my 
voice.  "Why,  you  are  the  very  man,"  he  cried,  and  putting 
his  great  heavy  arms  round  my  neck,  he  nearly  strangled 


«  WHAT  IS  TO  BE  DONE?" 


me !  The  vicar  (who  I  did  not  know  was  in  the  room), 
here  interposed,  and  got  my  release. 

"  Here  you  are,"  he  said,  "  at  it  again ;  and  they  are 
getting  worse  and  worse  in  the  barn — what  ever  is  to  be 
done?  We  cannot  go  home  through  this  rain,  and  the 
carriage  will  not  be  here  for  at  least  an  hour.  What  am  I 
to  do  ?  " 

I  said,  "  Let  us  go  then  to  the  barn  for  a  short  time, 
just  to  see  how  they  are  getting  on." 

After  some  hesitation,  he  went  in  with  me,  and  found 
the  people  praying  and  rejoicing ;  but,  as  I  expected,  far 
too  much  absorbed  to  observe  our  presence. 

After  a  time,  some  lads  noticed  me  and  cried  out  lustily, 
"  The  parson  is  here  !  The  parson  is  here  ! "  and  in  a 
moment  we  were  surrounded  by  a  number  of  happy  people, 
who  were  so  demonstrative  that  they  made  the  poor  vicar 
tremble  (as  he  told  me  afterwards)  with  a  strange  fear. 

They  said,  "  You  will  come  again  to-morrow  ?  " 

"Certainly,"  I  replied. 

"  Oh,  no,"  rejoined  the  vicar ;  "  on  no  account.  One 
night  of  this  work  is  quite  enough — more  than  enough." 

I  was  very  loth  to  give  up ;  but  a  man  said,  "  Never 
mind,  we  will  carry  it  on.  This  revival  will  not  stop  for  a 
week  or  fortnight,  for  certain." 

This  was  terrifying  news  for  the  vicar,  who  turned,  and 
looking  at  me  with  astonishment,  said,  reproachfully,  "  How 
did  you  do  it  ?  " 

I  replied,  "  This  is  not  my  work.  I  did  not  begin  it, 
neither  can  I  stop  it ;  nor  would  I,  even  if  I  could.  I  dare 
not.  I  have  known  persons  brought  under  heavy  judg- 
ments for  hindering  a  revival.  Take  my  advice,  and  do- 
not  hinder  this.  Let  these  men  go  on ;  they  know  what 
they  are  about." 

Soon  the  carriage  came,  and  we  returned  to  the  vicarage  ; 
8 


i6o 


FROM  DEATH  INTO  LIFE. 


but  the  dear  man  was  much  put  out,  and  evidently  very 
sorry  that  he  had  asked  me  to  come  and  disturb  his  mill- 
pond.  Indeed,  he  said  as  much ;  so  I  concluded  my  visit 
the  next  morning. 

Going  through  the  village,  I  heard  that  the  meeting  on 
the  previous  evening  was  continued  till  two  o'clock  in  the 
morning,  and  that  it  was  announced  there  would  be  one  in 
the  chapel  that  evening.  As  the  Church  refused  the  bless- 
ing, there  were  others  who  were  happy  to  receive  it. 

I  returned  home  sooner  than  I  was  expected,  and  told 
my  people,  at  the  evening  meeting,  the  things  I  had  seen 
and  heard ;  and  they  "  glorified  God." 


CHAPTER  XIX. 


1853- 


|T  the  time  of  which  I  am  writing,  twenty-six  or 


twenty-seven  years  ago,  special  services  for  preach- 
ing were  not  called  by  the  name  of  "Missions."  I 
think  that  word  has  been  derived  from  some  Roman 


Catholic  perverts,  who  made  aggressive  efforts  in  London, 
which  they  called  "  Catholic  Missions."  From  them  it  has 
been  adopted  by  some  who  love  to  copy  Rome  and  Romish 
phrases.  Strange  infatuation,  by  which  these  Romanizers 
in  vain  court  a  Church  which  despises  them,  and  gives  them 
■neither  place  nor  quarter  !  However,  the  word  is  now  well 
understood,  and  its  meaning  is  plainer  than  any  definitions 
of  mine  could  make  it. 

My  first  journey  to  "  foreign  parts  "  (as  the  Cornish  call  it) 
was  to  a  town  in  Devonshire,  where  I  stopped  three  or  four 
days.  The  day  I  arrived  I  preached  in  the  church,  because  it 
was  the  regular  evening  service ;  special  services  were  not 
then  known,  unless  it  was  for  some  Missionary  Society,  or 
other  such  advocacy.  The  idea  of  preaching  to  awaken 
souls,  was  considered  very  strange  and  fanatical.  The 
church  I  preached  in  had  high  pews,  which  prevented  my 


I62 


FROM  DBA  TH  INTO  LIFE. 


seeing  the  occHpants.  I  was  told  that  it  was  full,  and  cer- 
tainly there  were  faces  visible  here  and  there ;  but  the 
whole  congregation  was  so  still,  that  the  dropping  of  the 
proverbial  "pin"  might  have  been  heard.  It  was  all  very  chill- 
ing and  dead,  no  "  Amens  ! "  or  "  Glory  ! "  as  in  Cornwall ; 
indeed,  the  stillness  had  such  an  effect  upon  me,  that  I 
found  it  difficult  to  get  on.  After  making  two  or  three  hard 
appeals,  and  meeting  with  nothing  but  silence  for  a  response, 
I  concluded,  and  came  away  much  disappointed  and  dis- 
heartened. However,  the  next  morning,  the  vicar  showed 
me  some  beads,  feathers,  and  flowers  which  had  been  left  hi 
the  pews  of  the  church.  So  I  found  that  the  shots  had  hit 
somewhere,  or  something. 

Walking  through  the  town  in  the  course  of  the  day,  a 
tall  mason,  with  a  large  whitewash  brush  in  his  hand,  came 
running  after  me  (not  to  whitewash  me)  but  to  ask  the 
question,  which  he  did  most  eagerly,  "  Are  you  the  man 
that  preached  last  night  ?  " 

I  said,  "Yes,  I  am." 

"Oh,"  he  replied,  "will  you  preach  to-night?" 

I  answered  him  somewhat  doubtfully,  "I  suppose  not," 
for  the  vicar  did  not  know  what  excuse  there  could  be  for 
my  preaching  a  second  time. 

He  continued,  "  Will  you  come  to  my  house  and  preach 
this  evening  ?  I  have  a  good  large  room  at  your  service, 
and  can  promise  you  a  congregation." 

I  assented  ;  so  we  fixed  the  time,  and  made  all  other 
necessary  arrangements.  On  coming  down  in  the  even- 
ing, I  found  my  mason  friend  had  invited  his  neighbours, 
and  finding  more  had  promised  to  come  than  his  room 
would  hold,  he  had  opened  the  folding  doors  between  two 
rooms  upstairs,  taken  down  three  large  bedsteads,  and 
having  borrowed  forms  and  chairs,  he  was  able  to  accom- 
modate seventy  people.    As  many  as  this  came,  and  more, 


THE  CONVICTS  AT  PORTLAND.  163 

for  men  and  women  stood  on  the  stairs  and  landing 
besides. 

We  sang  heartily,  and  after  prayer  I  felt  a  little  more  at 
home  than  I  had  done  on  the  previous  evening ;  but  it  was 
not  up  to  Cornwall  yet !  In  my  address  I  had  liberty  and 
power  to  hold  the  people,  and  we  had  some  conversions 
that  evening,  and  the  following  one  also.  My  mason  friend 
was  greatly  cheered  and  revived,  and  from  this  time  began 
preaching  himself,  carrying  on  meetings  in  various  cottages 
and  farm  places. 

From  there,  I  went  on  into  Dorsetshire,  and  arrived  at 
the  vicarage  to  which  I  was  going,  rather  late  on  Saturday 
night,  very  tired ;  so  much  so,  that  I  was  glad  to  go  to  bed 
as  soon  as  possible.  On  .Sunday  morning  I  went  to  church 
and  preached  to  a  large  congregation,  the  words  which  God 
gave  me.  On  coming  out,  the  vicar's  wife  said,  "  If  I  had  sat 
up  all  night  telling  you  about  the  people,  you  could  not 
have  preached  more  appropriately ;  indeed,  I  am  sure  that 
some  of  them  will  think  that  I  told  you  what  to  say." 

It  was  so,  for  this  same  lady  was  charged  with  telling 
me  to  put  before  some  of  the  congregation  things  which  her 
.husband  dared  not !  In  the  evening  the  church  was 
crammed  to  excess,  and  the  people  were  most  attentive  and 
eager.  Some  of  them  could  scarcely  restrain  their  feelings, 
so  powerfully  did  the  Word  come  home  to  them.  At  the 
conclusion  of  the  service,  I  announced  that  I  had  come 
there  to  preach  every  night  for  the  week,  and  would  visit 
them  during  the  day.  Accordingly  in  the  morning  I  called 
at  several  cottages,  in  one  of  which  King  George  the  Third 
used  to  attend  a  prayer-meeting  with  the  country  people. 

In  the  afternoon  I  went  to  the  convict  prison  at  Port- 
land. It  was  sad  to  look  upon  the  prisoners  clanking  about 
in  their  chains,  many  of  whom  were  employed  in  making  a 


i64  FROM  DEATH  INTO  LIFE. 

road  to  the  sea.  I  could  not  help  saying  to  the  chaplain, 
who  was  walking  with  me,  "  What  a  picture  is  that !  It  is  ex- 
actly how  Satan  employs  unbelievers  to  make  their  own  road 
to  hell.  As  such,  they  are  condemned  already,  because  they 
do  not  believe  in  Christ ;  and  for  the  same  reason,  their  sins 
not  being  pardoned,  they  are  bound  in  chains." 

"  Well,"  said  the  chaplain  drily,  "  that  seems  all  clear 
and  scriptural.    Would  you  like  to  speak  to  them  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  I  said,  "  I  should." 

He  then  made  a  sign  to  the  warder,  who  commanded 
that  the  convicts  should  give  attention,  and  the  order  was  at 
once  obeyed. 

Standing  on  the  bank,  I  spoke  to  them  as  they  were 
assembled  before  me;  but  instead  of  telling  them  of  the 
devil  and  chains,  as  the  chaplain  expected,  I  spoke  of  God's 
love  to  sinners,  and  said  that  "chastisement  and  sorrows 
were  not  sent  in  anger,  but  in  kindness.  God  is  angry  when 
the  wicked  are  allowed  to  go  on  unpunished;  but  when 
punished  in  this  world,  it  is  not  for  expiation  of  sin  (for  only 
the  blood  of  Jesus  can  do  that),  but  for  the  purpose  of 
awakening  and  humbling  the  transgressor,  that  he  may  with 
contrite  heart  return  to  the  Lord,  who  alone  is  able  to^ 
deliver  us  from  sin  and  from  Satan's  power.  '  It  is  good,' 
said  the  Psalmist,  '  that  I  have  been  afflicted  :  before  I  was 
afflicted  I  went  astray,  but  now  have  I  kept  Thy  word.' " 

Many  of  the  men  were  so  affected,  that  they  sobbed 
aloud,  and  I  could  scarcely  refrain  from  doing  the  same 
thing  myself  After  this  I  prayed  that  the  word  spoken 
might  be  blessed  to  those  who  had  heard  it,  and  then  took 
my  leave.  It  was  not  easy  to  dismiss  this  sad  scene  from  my 
mind,  nor  have  I  ever  lost  the  impression  it  made  upon  me. 

We  had  a  very  good  time  that  evening  in  the  church, 
and  there  was  much  power  and  blessing.  At  the  close  of  the 
service,  I  gave  out  that  I  would  preach  again  the  following 


THE  MILITARY  VICAR.  165 

evening,  and  having  no  opportunity  for  an  after-meeting,  the 
word  preached  was  left  with  prayer  for  a  blessing  on  it. 

The  next  morning  there  came  an  unexpected,  as  well 
as  a  most  abrupt,  opposition  to  the  work ;  and  no  wonder, 
for  it  was  not  likely  that  Satan  would  permit  it  to  go  on 
smoothly.  A  vicar  from  the  neighbourhood,  who  had 
formerly  been  a  military  man,  and  had  still  the  command- 
ing manner  of  such,  presented  himself,  and  tried  to  terrify 
my  good  and  kind  friend,  the  vicar.  He  told  him  that  he 
had  heard  a  great  deal  about  me  ;  that  I  was  just  like 
Starkie,*  and  preached  the  same  doctrines  ;  and  that  he  was 
deputed  by  other  clergymen  to  come  and  ask  that  my 
preaching  might  be  stopped.  Then  he  went  on  to  say  that 
I  was  nothing  less  than  a  Jesuit  in  disguise ;  and  turning  to 
me,  he  said,  "  Sir,  you  know  you  are  !  "  I  replied,  begging 
his  pardon,  "  I  can  assure  you  I  am  not.  You  must  be 
altogether  misinformed."  But  he  said,  again  turning  round, 
and  sternly  looking  at  me,  "  You  know  I  am  not  mistaken 
or  misinformed  ;  your  countenance  betrays  you  !  "  I  smiled 
at  this,  not  knowing  how  my  countenance  looked.  He  was 
quite  satisfied  with  himself,  and  rather  more  so  because  he 
thought  he  had  succeeded  in  extracting  a  promise  from  the 
vicar  that  the  services  in  question  should  be  stopped. 

This  officer-clergyman  then  went  away,  saying  that  he 
was  quite  convinced  in  his  mind  that  I  was  a  Jesuit,  and 
nothing  should  ever  dissuade  him ;  this  interview  had  con- 
firmed his  thoughts  on  the  subject.  My  dear  good  friend 
was  so  afraid  of  that  loud,  overbearing  man,  that  he  con- 
sented to  give  up  the  services  after  that  night. 

Presently  another  clergyman,  evidently  in  concert  with 


*  A  clergyman  who  had  associated  himself  with  H.  J.  Prince  and 
some  others,  and  founded  the  "  Agapemone  "  at  Spaxton,  near  Bridge- 
water. 


FROM  DEATH  INTO  LIFE. 


the  former,  called  on  the  same  errand.  His  more  gentle 
manner  and  plausible  words  had  greater  effect,  so  that  the 
vicar  more  than  half  decided  to  have  no  service,  even  on 
that  evening. 

Before  he  had  fully  made  up  his  mind,  it  so  happened 
that  there  came  on  a  tremendous  thunder-storm,  accom- 
panied with  hail  and  vivid  flashes  of  lightning.  This  was 
considered  by  him  quite  providential,  and  an  indication  that 
God  wished  the  services  stopped.  When  the  sexton  came 
over  to  tlie  vicarage,  a  little  before  the  service  time,  the 
vicar  said,  "  Don't  ring  the  bell  for  church  to-night ;  it  is  of 
no  use  :  no  one  can  possibly  come  out  this  weather  !  " 

"  Why,  sir,"  said  the  sexton,  "  the  church  have  been 
crammed  full  this  half-hour.  It's  no  use  ringing  the  bell, 
sure,  for  wc  ain't  got  no  room  for  no  more  people." 

"Now,  that  is  remarkable,"  said  the  vicar.  "I  do 
think,  after  all,  the  Lord  would  have  us  go  on.  What  do 
you  think  ?  "  he  said,  turning  to  me. 

I  replied,  "  Without  doubt  I  think  so.  I  cannot  sup- 
pose that  the  Lord  would  send  such  men,  in  such  a  tone, 
to  stop  His  work." 

"  Well,  then,"  said  the  vicar,  "  we  will  go  on  till  the  end 
of  the  week." 

But  this  could  not  be ;  for  in  the  morning,  as  soon  as  he 
had  decided  to  stop  the  services,  I  sat  down  and  wrote  to 
a  cousin  of  mine,  in  the  neighbourhood  (and  the  letter  had 
gone),  to  get  me  the  parish  church  for  the  next  evening, 
and  said,  "  I  would  come  to  her  on  a  visit  for  a  few  days, 
as  my  preaching  in  this  place  was  brought  to  an  end." 

I  spoke  that  evening,  and  announced  that  I  would  do 
so  again  on  Thursday.  On  the  following  day  I  went  on 
this  promised  visit  to  another  part  of  the  county,  and  was 
not  long  in  the  company  of  my  cousin,  before  I  found  out 
that  she  had  been  brought  up  in  Evangelical  doctrines,  and 


PREACHING  IN  THE  MINSTER.  i6; 

hated  Puseyisni ;  but  that  she  had  never  been  converted 
In  the  evening,  we  *went  to  the  Minster  Church,  the  use 
of  which  she  had  obtained  for  me.  There,  I  preached 
from  the  words,  "  Behold,  I  stand  at  the  door  and  knock.'' 
(I  did  not  know  then,  as  I  do  now,  that  this  is  a  text  foi 
beUevers.)  Accommodating  it  for  my  purpose,  I  made  out 
that  many  people  assented  to  evangelical  doctrines,  without 
yielding  to  them  :  that  is,  they  heard  the  knocking,  but 
did  not  open  the  door  and  receive  the  Saviour ;  therefore, 
they  remained  unsaved ;  and  if  they  died  like  that,  would 
be  lost  for  ever  ! 

When  I  first  ascended  the  pulpit,  which  stood  outside  of 
a  high  chancel  screen,  I  looked  towards  the  nave,  and  saw 
it  filled  with  high  pews,  which,  as  I  thought,  were  for  the 
most  part  empty ;  whereas,  I  could  see  that  the  choir  and 
chancel,  which  was  brightly  lighted,  was  full  of  choir-men 
and  boys,  besides  many  people ;  so  instead  of  turning  my 
back  upon  the  many  in  the  lighted  chancel,  and  addressing 
myself  to  the  unseen  few  in  the  large  dark  nave,  I  turned 
round  in  the  pulpit,  and,  looking  through  the  screen, 
preached  to  those  I  could  see.  The  people  in  the  nave, 
however,  were  most  attentive  to  hear ;  and  after  the  sermon 
came  up  and  asked  me  why  I  had  turned  my  back  on  them, 
for  they  could  not  hear  all  I  said.  Evidently  they  had 
heard  something  which  had  interested  them.  Seeing  so 
many  were  anxious,  we  invited  those  who  wished  for  further 
help,  or  instruction,  to  come  home  with  us.  Many  did  so, 
and  we  held  a  kind  of  after-meeting,  in  which  my  cousin 
and  several  others  found  peace. 

I  could  not  promise  to  stay  there  any  longer,  having 
settled  to  return  on  Thursday  to  resume  services  in  the 
church  previously  referred  to.  Accordingly  I  went  back  to 
a  neighbouring  town,  where  my  good  vicar  had  appointed  to 
meet  me.     He  did  so,  and,  without  delay,  commenced 


FROM  DEATH  INTO  LIFE. 


telling  me,  that  he  had  had  a  long  talk  with  some  of  his 
brother  clergymen,  and  had  given  his  w'ord  that  the  services 
were  positively  to  be  discontinued  after  that  night ;  he  also 
told  me  he  had  taken  my  place  by  the  coach,  and  that  I  was 
to  start  for  Exeter  the  next  morning,  on  my  way  home. 
Then  he  went  on  to  say  that  he  found  it  would  be  danger- 
ous to  keep  me  any  longer,  for  he  should  have  the  whole 
neighbourhood  up  about  it.  In  his  timidity,  he  would 
rather  let  the  work  stop,  than  be  embroiled  with  the  neigh- 
bourhood ! 

The  evening  service  was  crowded,  and  the  people  were 
very  disappointed  that  I  was  not  allowed  to  remain.  How- 
ever, I  told  them  it  could  not  be,  and  that  I  must  go — 
so  took  leave  of  them. 

The  next  morning  we  rose  early,  and  breakfasted  at  six 
o'clock,  then  drove  out  to  the  turnpike  road,  to  meet  the 
coach  at  an  appointed  corner,  at  seven.  It  arrived  in  due 
time,  piled  up  high  into  the  air  with  passengers  and  lug- 
gage ;  but  having  an  inside  place  secured  for  me,  we  were 
not  dismayed  at  the  outside  appearance.  The  coachman 
got  off  the  box,  and,  instead  of  opening  the  coach  door  as 
we  expected,  put  some  money  into  my  hand,  and,  with 
a  grinning  countenance,  said,  "There's  your  money,  sir. 
Sorry  to  say  can't  take  you  to-day  ;  hain't  got  a  crevice  of 
room  anywhere.  Good  morning,  sir."  In  a  moment  more 
he  was  up  on  his  box,  with  reins  in  hand.  "  Take  you  to- 
morrow, sir,  same  time.  Good  morning."  And  off  he 
went !  Imagine  our  surprise  at  being  left  on  the  roadside 
in  this  unceremonious  way.  My  good  little  vicar  was  most 
indignant  at  being  thus  treated.  "  I'll  make  him  pay  for 
that,"  he  said.  "  I'll  punish  him — it's  against  the  law." 
And  then,  as  if  a  new  thought  had  suddenly  come  to  him, 
he  said,  "  Ah,  I  know  what  we  will  do !  Jump  into  the 
carriage  again  " ;  and  putting  my  luggage  in,  he  got  ur>.  -^'^  ' 


"  VER  V  REMARK-ABLE  !  " 


drove  me  to  the  next  town.  He  said,  "  We  will  take  a 
post-chaise,  and  make  the  coach  people  pay  for  it ;  tliat's  it 
— that's  what  we  will  do." 

I  suggested  that  I  did  not  think  we  could  do  that, 
having  received  the  money  back. 

"Ah,  that's  nothing,"  he  said;  "that's  nothing.  We 
will  take  a  post-chaise." 

This  scheme  was  prevented ;  for  on  arriving  at  the 
hotel,  there  was  not  a  carriage  of  any  kind  to  be  had. 
"Are  you  sure  of  that?"  said  the  vicar  (as  if  all  the  world 
was  in  league  with  the  coach  proprietor).  "  Are  you  quite 
sure  ?  " 

"  You  had  better  come  and  see  for  yourself,"  said  the 
ostler,  in  a  surly  tone. 

We  went  into  the  yard,  and  found  the  coach-houses 
(juite  empty. 

"That's  very  remarkable,"  said  the  vicar;  "but  these 
people  are  connected  with  that  coach— it  changes  horses 
here.    We  will  go  to  the  next  inn." 

There  they  did  not  let  out  carriages  at  all ! 

"  Well  now,"  said  the  vicar,  "  this  is  very  remarkable," 
and  was  silent. 

"  Perhaps  the  Lord  does  not  mean  me  to  go  to  day," 
I  said  meekly. 

"  It  seems  so,  certainly.  I  must  say  it  is  very  remark- 
able." 

I  suggested  that  I  would  stay  at  the  inn  till  the  next 
morning,  as  there  was  no  means  of  getting  on.  "  Shall  I 
do  so?" 

"Oh,  no;  certainly  not— certainly  not,"  said  the  kind 
man.    "  Not  at  all — not  at  all.    We  will  go  back  again." 

"But,"  I  said,  "what  will  they  think  when  they  see 
me?" 

Poor  dear  man,  like  many  others  he  was  dreadfully 


[70 


FROM  DEA  TH  INTO  LIFE. 


frightened  at  the  thought  of  "what  will  'they'  think?" 
As  if  "they"  did  not  go  on  thinking  whether  one  gives 
them  occasion  or  not. 

In  due  course,  we  arrived  again  in  sight  of  the  vicar- 
age gate,  and  there  we  saw  the  vicar's  wife,  with  her  hands 
up  in  astonishment.  She  exclaimed,  "  What !  are  you 
come  back  ?  " 

"  Yes,  we  are  indeed ! "  said  the  vicar,  and  he  was 
going  to  tell  her  how  it  was,  but  she  was  too  impatient  to 
listen,  having,  as  she  thought,  something  more  important  to 
communicate.  She  said,  "  After  you  went  away  this  morn- 
ing, the  weather  being  so  fine,  I  thought  that  I  would  go 
into  the  village,  and  see  some  of  the  people  who  were  at 
church  last  evening.  In  passing  by  widow  S.'s  cottage,  on 
my  way  to  another,  I  saw  her  door  and  window  open,  and 
heard  her  praying  very  earnestly,  '  Lord,  bring  him  back ! — 
bring  him  back  ! '  I  thought  she  was  praying  about  her 
husband,  who  had  recently  died ;  and  that  I  would  go  in 
and  try  to  comfort  her.  So  I  knelt  down  by  her  side,  and 
repeated  the  words,  '  I  shall  go  to  him,  but  he  shall  not 
return  to  me,'  when  she  turned  round  and  said,  '  Oh,  I 
don't  mean  that ! '  and  then,  as  if  she  grudged  every 
breath  whicli  was  spent  in  other  words,  she  went  on  repeat- 
ing, '  Lord,  bring  him  back  !   Lord,  bring  him  back  ! ' 

"  '  Who  do  you  mean  } '  I  said,  '  what  can  you  mean  ? ' 

"  She  went  on,  '  O  Lord,  I  saw  him  go  away.  I  saw 
them  take  him  away.  Lord,  bring  him  back  ! — bring  him 
back  ! ' 

"  I  again  said,  '  "Who  do  you  mean?  ' 

"  She  took  no  heed,  but  went  on,  '  O  Lord,  when  I 
opened  the  window  I  saw  him  coming  out  of  the  vicarage 
gate.    Lord,  bring  him  back  ! — do  bring  him  back  ! ' 

"At  last  I  understood  that  she  was  i)raying  forjw/  to  be 
brought  back.    Then  I  said  to  her,  '  Dear  woman,  do  get 


"BRING  HIM  BACK!" 


up  from  your  knees,  and  let  me  talk  to  you.'  No,  she 
would  not  get  up. 

"  '  No,  I  can't  get  up.  Lord,  bring  him  back  !  bring 
him  back ! ' 

"  '  It  cannot  be,'  I  said ;  '  he  is  on  the  coach  by  this 

time  a  long  way  off.'    The  woman  became  frantic  at  the 

thought.  '  Oh,  what  shall  I  do  ?  what  shall  I  do  ?  Lord, 
bring  him  back  ! ' 

"  Seeing  that  I  could  do  nothing  in  the  matter,  I  went  to 
call  on  some  other  people,  and  coming  back  found  the 
widow  still  on  her  knees,  urging  the  same  petition  without 
stopping." 

"  Well,  that  is  remarkable,"  interposed  the  vicar. 
Without  a  moment's  pause,  I  set  off  to  show  myself  to 
the  widow. 

"  Now,  there  you  are,"  she  said  ;  "  the  Lord  has  sent 
you  back.  I  lay  awake  best  part  of  the  night,  thinking  of 
some  questions  I  wished  to  ask  you ;  and  when  I  saw  you 
go  away  like  that,  so  early  in  the  morning,  it  gave  me  quite 
a  turn.    I  thought  I  should  be  lost  for  ever  ! " 

Her  questions  concerned  her  soul's  condition.  On  my 
putting  Christ  and  His  salvation  before  her  for  her  accept- 
ance, she  found  peace  ;  and  afterwards  became  a  good 
helper  in  the  parish.  There  were  some  other  anxious  ones 
she  urged  me  to  visit,  which  I  did.  On  referring  to  my 
letters,  written  at  the  time,  I  find  a  record  of  five  persons 
who  professed  to  find  peace  that  morning. 

In  the  evening,  we  had  a  kind  of  service  in  the  school- 
room, with  as  many  as  we  could  get  together,  and  spent  a 
very  happy  time  in  prayer  and  praise. 

The  next  morning  I  started  for  home,  which  I  reached 
late  on  Saturday  night,  or  rather  early  on  Sunday  morn- 
ing, and  appeared  quite  unexpectedly  among  my  people 


[72 


FROM  DEA  TH  INTO  LIFE. 


again.  I  gave  them  an  account  of  the  state  of  things  in 
the  "shires."  This,  my  first  experience  of  "foreign  mis- 
sions," was  not  encouraging. 

Ever  since  my  conversion,  I  had  been  over  head  and 
ears  in  conversion  work,  and,  as  a  loyal  young  convert, 
thought  at  that  time  there  was  nothing  else  in  the  world  to 
live,  or  to  work  for  !  How  surprised  I  was  when  I  found 
that  this  was  not  by  any  means  the  first  thing  in  the  minds 
of  my  Evangelical  brethren  ;  and  more  so  still  when  I  saw 
that  even  preaching  for  the  salvation  of  souls  was  put  aside 
altogether,  if  it  did  not  fit  in  with  the  stated  service-day  of 
the  week,  or  public  opinion.  If  people  came  to  church,  or 
better  still,  to  the  communion  table,  they  were  considered 
quite  satisfactory  enough,  even  though  they  were  dead  in 
trespasses  and  sins.  I  did  not,  of  course,  expect  anything 
from  my  own  neighbours,  for  I  knew  them  of  old;  but 
from  accredited  "  standard  bearers,"  I  did  expect  something 
and  got  nothing. 

While  I  was  still  feeling  sore  and  disappointed,  intend- 
ing not  to  go  out  on  such  errands  any  more,  I  found  my- 
self promised  to  another  mission  in  a  most  unexpected 
manner ;  but  this  did  not  happen  to  be  out  of  Cornwall, 
and  therefore  prospered  better,  as  we  shall  see. 


CHAPTER  XX. 


^  Stranger  from  IConbon. 

1853- 

LADY  in  London,  reading  in  the  Cornish  news- 
papers about  our  revivals,  became  much  interested, 
and  having  a  strong  desire  to  witness  such  a 
movement  personally,  proposed  a  visit  to  her 
uncle  in  Truro,  who  had  sent  her  those  papers.  Being 
accepted,  she  came  down — a  long  way  in  those  days,  when 
railway  communication  was  not  so  complete  as  it  is  now. 

This  same  lady  was  present  at  my  church  on  Sunday 
morning ;  and  expressing  a  wish  to  attend  the  afternoon 
service,  we  gladly  welcomed  her  to  the  parsonage.  In 
course  of  conversation,  she  spoke  of  churches  in  London 
where  the  Gospel  was  preached  in  its  fulness ;  and  I  naturally 
asked  her  whether  they  had  "after-meetings."  She  said,  she 
did  not  know  what  I  meant. 

"  Prayer-meetings,  for  conversion  work,  I  mean." 
"  What  is  that  ? "  she  inquired.    "  Is  not  conversion 
God's  work  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  I  answered,  "  indeed  it  is  ;  but  so  is  the  harvest 
yonder  in  the  corn-fields  :  it  is  all  God's  work,  but  men  have 
to  plough  the  ground  and  sow  the  seed." 

"  Oh,  is  that  what  you  call  revival  work  ?    I  have  read 


74 


FROM  DEA  TH  INTO  LIFE. 


of  it ;  and,  to  tell  the  truth,  I  have  come  all  the  way  from 
London  to  see  it." 

She  evidently  had  an  idea  that  revivals  were  something 
like  thunder-storms,  which  come  of  themselves,  no  one 
knows  how  or  why ;  or  something  that  is  vented,  like  an 
occasional  eruption  of  Mount  Vesuvius. 

I  said,  "  Revivals — that  is,  the  refreshening  of  believers 
and  the  awakening  of  sinners — ought  to  take  place  wherever 
the  Gospel  is  preached  in  faith  and  power." 

She  could  not  understand  it,  and  said,  "  It  is  not  so  in 
churches,  is  it  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  I  replied,  "  in  churches  as  well  as  in  cottages, 
halls,  and  chapels  too." 

"  I  am  sure  Mr.  in  London  preaches  a  full  Gospel, 

but  I  have  never  heard  of  a  revival  there ;  indeed,  I  feel 
convinced  they  would  not  allow  it." 

"Is  he  converted?"  I  asked. 

She  smiled  at  the  question,  and  said,  "I  suppose  he  is." 

"I  mean,  does  he  preach  about  the  forgiveness  of  sins?  and, 
more  than  this,  does  he  expect  people  to  have  forgiveness  ?  " 

She  said  she  could  not  understand  my  Cornish  way  of 
talking — "They  do  not  speak  like  that  in  London." 

"  Your  sins  are  pardoned,"  I  said,  by  way  of  explanation, 
in  order  to  get  her  to  comprehend  my  meaning  from  her 
own  experience.  "  Your  sins  are  pardoned."  She  got  very 
confused.  "  You  know,"  I  continued,  "  that  it  is  a  happy  day 
when  Jesus  takes  our  sins  away."  This  only  made  matters 
worse.  She  became  greatly  embarrassed.  While  we  spoke 
of  London  and  Gospel  preaching  she  was  free  enough ;  but 
the  moment  I  made  a  personal  application  of  the  subject, 
she  was  altogether  bewildered. 

At  last,  with  a  kind  of  forced  effort,  she  said,  "  I  have 
been  a  child  of  God  for  eleven  years." 

"Thank  God  !  "  I  said,  much  relieved  ;  "that  is  what  I 


THE  LADY  FROM  LONDON. 


175 


mean.  You  have  been  converted  and  pardoned  for  eleven 
years.  It  is  all  right,  then.  I  did  not  intend  to  perplex  you, 
and  am  sorry  I  did  not  convey  my  meaning  in  a  better 
manner." 

But  I  could  not  smooth  down  her  ruffled  feathers  so  easily, 
and  was  glad  when  the  five  minutes'  bell  began  ringing  to 
summon  us  to  church.  We  got  ready,  and  went.  It  hap- 
pened to  be  a  children's  service,  and  our  subject  that  after- 
noon was  Joseph's  reconciliation  with  his  brethren.  Three 
questions,  among  others,  were  asked  and  dwelt  upon. 

First,  "  Was  Joseph  reconciled  with  his  brethren  while 
they  were  self-convicted  before  him,  and  condemned  them- 
selves as  verily  guilty  concerning  their  brother?" — •"  No." 

Second,  "  Was  he  reconciled  when  he  feasted  with  them, 
and  made  merry  ?  " — "  No." 

Third,  "  When,  then,  was  he  reconciled  ?  "— "  When 
they  surrendered  themselves,  and  all  the  eleven  were  pros- 
trate at  his  feet,  like  the  eleven  sheaves  which  bowed  to 
Joseph's  sheaf  in  the  harvest  field ;  then  he  made  himself 
known  to  them,  and  forgave  them.  It  is  not  when  a  soul 
is  under  condemnation,  nor  yet  when  it  is  happy,  that  it  is 
saved;  but  when  it  is  actually,  once  for  all,  surrendered 
to  Christ  for  salvation,  then  it  is  He  makes  himself  known 
to  them,  even  as  Joseph  did  to  his  brethren." 

The  lady  went  away.  I  did  not  ascertain  who  she  was, 
nor  where  she  came  from  ;  I  was  not  much  taken  with  her, 
nor  was  she  with  me.  Hers  was  evidently  a  kind  of  religion 
which  I  had  not  met  with  before,  and  did  not  care  to  meet 
with  again. 

The  next  day  I  went  for  a  few  hours'  rest  and  change  to 
the  sea-side  at  Pcrran,  but  there  was  a  burden  of  prayer  on 
my  soul.  I  could  not  thank  God  for  that  unknown  lady, 
but  I  could  pray  for  mercy  for  her.    The  impression  on  my 


76 


FROM  DEATH  INTO  LIFE. 


mind  was  very  clear :  I  felt  that  she  was  not  saved.  The 
day  following  the  burden  was  heavier  still,  and  I  was  on  my 
knees  praying  for  her  for  several  hours  in  the  day.  In  the 
evening  I  was  quite  in  distress.  The  next  day  I  was  most 
anxious  for  her,  and  'could  do  nothing  but  pray,  even  with 
tears.  This  lasted  till  the  following  day  (Thursday),  when 
I  happened  to  go  into  the  drawing-room  for  something,  and 
there  I  observed  a  strange  Bible  lying  on  the  table.  I 
remembered  that  I  had  seen  that  same  book  in  the  lady's 
hand  on  Sunday.  I  took  it  up,  and  saw  a  name,  and  on 
making  inquiry  of  the  servants  I  found  out  that  she  came 
in  Mr.  's  carriage  on  Sunday. 

This  was  enough.  I  wrote  a  note  immediately,  and  sent 
the  Bible,  saying  that  I  was  greatly  burdened  for  her  soul, 
and  should  much  like  to  see  her.  She  sent  me  a  kind  letter 
in  reply,  appointing  the  following  Monday  for  my  visit. 

On  that  day  I  called,  and  found  her  very  kind,  and 
seemingly  thankful  for  the  interest  I  expressed  in  her 
welfare.  I  said  that  she  had  nothing  really  to  thank  me  for, 
for  I  could  not  help  myself ;  the  burden  had  been  laid  upon 
me.  Then  I  asked  her  if  she  would  tell  me  how  she 
became  a  child  of  God. 

She  did  so  readily,  and  told  me  that  once  she  was  in  the 
world,  and  as  fond  of  dancing  and  pleasure  as  others  with 
whom  she  associated  ;  that  in  the  midst  of  her  gaiety  she 
was  called  to  the  death -bed  of  a  cousin,  who  was  just  such 
a  lover  of  pleasure  as  herself  Her  cousin  said,  "  Oh,  Mary, 
give  up  the  world  for  my  sake.  I  am  lost!  Oh,  Mary, 
give  it  up ! "  Soon  she  died,  poor  girl,  just  awakened 
enough  to  see  and  feel  herself  hopelessly  lost — a  dying 
worldling.  No  one  was  near  to  point  her  to  the  Saviour,  so 
she  departed  as  she  had  liked  to  live,  without  salvation. 
Mary  wept  at  the  remembrance  of  that  solemn  scene,  and 
said  she  could  never  forget  it. 


A  "ZEAL  FOR  GOD.' 


77 


"  Well,"  I  said,  "  and  what  did  you  do  then  ?  " 

She  answered  firmly,  "  I  knelt  down  then  and  there,  by 
the  side  of  the  bed  where  my  poor  cousin  had  just  died,  and 
I  called  God  to  witness  that  I  would  give  up  the  world.  I 
did  so ;  and  have  never  had  any  inclination  to  go  back  into 
its  gaieties  and  pleasures  since.  I  began  from  that  time  to 
pray,  and  read  my  Bible,  and  go  to  church ;  and  I  love 
these  things  now  better  than  I  did  the  things  of  the 
world  before." 

At  the  time  of  this  change,  she  was  led  to  a  church 
where  Evangelical  truth  was  preached  simply  and  plainly  ; 
and  thus  became  distinctly  enlightened  as  to  the  way  of 
salvation.  She  fully  assented  and  consented  to  what  she 
heard,  and  therefore  became  a  very  earnest  disciple,  enthu- 
siastic about  the  sovereignty  of  God  and  the  doctrines  of 
grace,  and  all  such  matters.  She  understood  the  meaning 
of  the  Levitical  types  and  offerings  ;  could  speak  of  dispen- 
sational  truth  and  prophecy ;  was  very  zealous  about  mis- 
sions to  the  heathen,  and  was  also  earnestly  devoted  to 
many  charitable  works  at  home. 

There  was,  however,  one  little  suspicious  thing  in  the 
midst  of  all  this  manifest  goodness.  She  had  not  much 
patience  with  elementary  Gospel  sermons,  or  much  interest 
in,  or  sympathy  with,  efforts  made  to  bring  in  perishing 
souls ;  she  loved  rather  to  be  fed  with  high  doctrines,  and 
the  mysteries  of  grace  with  its  deeper  teachings.  There  are 
some  men  who  love  to  preach  exclusively  about  these  things, 
even  before  mixed  congregations,  addressing  them  as  if  they 
were  all  real  Christians. 

It  is  surprising  how  many  people  there  are  just  like 
Mary,  who  seem  to  care  more  for  doctrines  than  for  God 
Himself — more  for  favourite  truths  than  for  souls.  A  simple 
elementary  Gospel  address,  with  some  clear  illustrations, 
was  just  the  very  thing  which  Mary  wanted  for  her  own 


[78  FROM  DEA  TH  INTO  LIFE. 


soul's  good,  more  than  anything ;  but,  unfortunately,  this 
was  the  thing  against  which  she  was  prejudiced,  for  she 
abhorred  "anecdotal  sermons." 

After  hearing  her  story,  I  said,  "  It  is  very  interesting ; 
but  there  is  one  great  deficiency  in  it  You  have  not  told 
me  anything  about  Christ ;  have  you  nothing  to  say  abou 
the  blood  of  Jesus,  and  about  your  sins  ?  Have  you  had  no 
real  transaction  with  God  about  them  ?  " 

She  said  she  "did  not  know  what  I  meant." 

"  Did  you  never  come  as  a  sinner,  and  obtain  the  for- 
giveness of  your  sins  ?  " 

"  No,"  she  replied ;  "  that  is  what  I  do  not  understand 
about  _)w/r  teaching." 

I  showed  her,  as  plainly  as  I  could,  that  she  had  not 
told  me  about  conversion,  but  reformation.  "  You  have 
only  turned  over  a  new  leaf,  and  kept  your  resolutions 
prayerfully  and  well  for  eleven  years  ;  but  this  is  not  turning 
back  the  old  leaves  of  your  past  life,  and  getting  them 
washed  in  the  blood  of  the  Lamb.  '  He  that  covers  his 
sins '  in  this  way,  '  can  never  prosper.'  If  a  man  owes  a 
debt  for  which  he  is  very  sorry,  and  determines  that  in 
future  he  will  pay  for  everything  he  gets — this  will  not  pay 
his  past  debts." 

She  went  on  to  justify  herself,  and  said,  "  that  she 
knew  a  great  many  good  Christian  people,  and  that  none  of 
them  had  ever  suspected  her  as  I  did." 

I  endeavoured  to  assure  her  that  I  was  dreadfully 
alarmed  about  her  condition,  and  was  certain  that  if  she 
died  like  that,  there  would  be  no  more  hope  for  her  salva- 
tion than  for  her  cousin's.  This  seemed  to  rouse  her 
hostility,  and  I  saw  that  I  had  lost  influence.  However,  I 
could  not  blame  myself,  for  I  had  only  said  what  I  felt  to 
be  true.  I  returned  home  and  prayed  for  more  wisdom. 
All  that  night  I  could  not  sleep,  and  most  of  it  was  spent  in 


CHANGE  OF  HEART. 


179 


pleading  with  God.  I  felt  as  if  a  resdess  bird  was  flying 
about  the  room,  and  something  was  saying,  "  She  will  be 
lost  for  ever."    I  urged  my  petition  again  and  again. 

The  next  day  I  called,  and  found  this  lady  quite  broken 
down,  and  ready  to  pray  and  listen  to  my  teaching.  I  was 
most  thankful,  and  greatly  relieved  after  the  night's  rest- 
lessness. I  had  much  happiness  in  pointing  out  the  way  of 
salvation  as  an  exjierimental  thing.  She  knew,  before  I  did, 
the  doctrine  of  the  Atonement,  but  she  had  had  no  expe- 
rience of  its  real  efficacy.  Now  that  her  eyes  were  opened, 
she  was  in  right  earnest  to  know  the  reality  of  sins  forgiven. 
Soon  she  found  this,  though  not  yet  the  joy  of  deliverance ; 
she  knew  the  peace  and  shelter  of  the  sprinkled  blood 
(Exod.  xii.  13),  but  not  yet  the  joy  and  liberty  of  being  on 
the  rock  on  the  other  side  of  the  Red  Sea  (Exod.  xv.  2). 
I  was  sure  that  it  would  all  come  in  due  time,  and  therefore 
was  able  to  take  comfort,  and  also  to  comfort  her. 

I  saw  a  good  deal  of  her  at  that  time,  and  one  day  she 
told  me  that  a  relation  of  hers,  a  clergj'man,  was  coming  to 
have  it  out  with  me  for  saying  that  she  was  not  converted 
before. 

"  Certainly,"  I  replied,  "  I  shall  be  happy  to  meet  him, 
and  hope  you  will  be  in  the  room." 

When  the  dreaded  man  arrived,  we  were  introduced  to 
one  another. 

"  Well,"  he  said,  "  you  are  a  very  different-looking  man 
to  what  I  imagined.  I  have  heard  a  deal  about  you.  So 
you  are  a  Puseyite  turned  Evangelical,  eh  ?  I  have  often 
heard  of  people  going  the  other  way,  but  must  say  I  have 
never  met  a  man  who  had  come  in  this  direction."  He  then 
asked  about  the  results  of  my  ministry. 

I  told  him  what  was  the  effect  in  my  church  and  parish, 
and  that  the  same  signs  followed  the  preaching  of  the 
Gospel  wherever  I  went. 


i8o  FROM  DEA  TH  INTO  LIFE. 


"  I  wish,"  he  said,  "  you  would  come  and  preach  in  my 
parish.  You  know  a  great  friend  of  mine  at  Veryan,  and 
have  preached  in  his  pulpit.  Will  you  do  the  same  for 
me  ?" 

"  Oh,  yes,"  I  said,  "  certainly,  with  pleasure." 

"  Now,  look  at  me,  for  I  am  a  man  of  business :  when 
will  you  come  ?    Name  your  day." 

I  looked  at  my  pocket-book,  and  fixed  upon  a  certain 
Monday. 

Then  he  arranged  that  we  should  have  a  kind  of  mis- 
sionary meeting,  "in  course  of^which,"  he  said,  "you  can 
preach  as  much  Gospel  as  you  like.  If  it  goes  well,  we  will 
have  a  lecture  the  next  evening  on  '  Heart  Conversion,'  and 
another  the  evening  following,  on  something  else.  He  was 
"  quite  sure  no  one  would  come  to  hear  a  sermon  only.  It 
must  be  a  missionary  meeting,  or  something  of  the  kind,  to 
bring  the  people  out." 

On  the  day  appointed,  the  barn  where  we  were  assembled 
was  well  filled,  and  seeing  that  the  people  were  interested, 
the  vicar  gave  out,  "Mr.  Haslam  will  lecture  to-morrow 
evening  on  Heart  Conversion." 

The  next  evening,  when  we  arrived,  we  found  the  barn 
quite  full,  and  numbers  standing  outside;  besides,  there 
were  many  more  whom  we  passed  on  the  road.  So  it  was 
determined  that  we  should  go  into  the  church  and  have  a 
short  service.  The  edifice  was  soon  lighted,  and  filled, 
and  after  a  few  collects  and  hymns  (for  they  had  a  hymn- 
book  in  that  church),  I  went  up  into  the  pulpit,  and 
preached  upon  the  absolute  necessity  of  conversion — no 
salvation  without  it.  As  to  "  heart  conversion,"  what  is  con- 
version at  all  if  the  heart  is  not  touched  ?  Then  I  treated 
my  subject  from  another  point  of  view.  "  Every  converted 
person  here  knows  what  heart  conversion  is ;  and  if  any  one 
does  not,  it  is  clear  he  is  not  converted.    If  he  dies  in  that 


«  LORD,  SA  VE  ME  /  "  1 8 1 

state,  he  will  be  lost  for  ever  !  "  I  concluded  the  sermon 
with  prayer;. and  while  I  was  praying  in  the  pulpit,  one 
after  another  of  the  people  in  the  pews  began  to  cry  aloud 
for  mercy.  My  friend  Mary  likened  it  to  a  battle-field,  and 
me  to  a  surgeon  going  from  one  wounded  one  to  another  to 
help  them. 

At  eleven  o'clock  we  closed  the  service,  promising  to 
hold  another  the  next  day. 

On*  Wednesday  morning  Mary  awoke  from  her  sleep 
with  a  voice  saying  to  her,  "  Behold  the  Lamb  of  God, 
which  taketh  away  the  sin  of  the  world." 

"  Then  all  my  sins  are  gone.  He  has  borne  them.  He 
'Himself  bore  our  sins  in  His  own  body  on  the  tree.'" 

She  was  filled  with  joy  unspeakable,  and  came  to  break- 
fast rejoicing.  The  lady  of  the  house  was  in  tears,  the 
servants  were  troubled,  and  the  vicar  alternately  glad  and 
sorry,  for  he  was  not  sure  whether  it  was  excitement  or  the 
work  of  God,  and  did  not  know  what  to  make  of  it.  How- 
ever, in  the  evening  he  broke  down  in  his  reading-desk  in 
the  middle  of  the  sermon,  and  burst  out,  "  Lord,  save  me  ! " 
In  an  instant  the  whole  congregation  was  up,  and  the 
people  ever)'where  either  crying  for  mercy,  or  rejoicing, 
The  power  of  the  Lord  was  present  to  heal  them,  and  many 
souls  were  saved  that  night ;  and  besides  these,  there  were 
others  who  were  troubled. 

Amongst  this  number  was  the  young  squire  of  the 
parish.  He  was  afterwards  decidedly  converted  to  God, 
and  took  great  interest  in  the  work.  When  twitted  on  the 
bench  by  his  brother  magistrates  about  the  revival,  he  stood 
his  ground  manfully,  and  gave  good  testimony.  He  con- 
tinues to  this  day  a  bold  champion  for  the  truth  as  it  is  in 
Jesus. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 


(Balant  fission. 

1854. 

|T  is  a  good  plan  to  strike  while  the  iron  is  hot ;  and 
as  the  people  at  Golant  were  in  an  interested  and 
receptive  state,  I  put  off  other  things  which  had 
been  appointed,  and  made  arrangements  to  return 
to  the  battle-field  as  soon  as  possible.  My  people  were 
much  excited  to  hear  what  I  was  able  to  tell  them  of  my 
three  days'  visit,  and  they  wished  me  "  God  speed  "  for  my 
next  venture,  praying  most  heartily  for  great  blessing. 

Accordingly,  on  the  following  Monday  I  went  back  to 
Golant,  and  found  the  place  (an  unusually  quiet  country 
village),  together  with  the  whole  neighbourhood  round, 
including  two  or  three  small  towns,  all  astir.  As  a  rule,  in 
order  to  insure  success  in  a  mission,  there  needs  prepara- 
tion, visitation,  and  prayer ;  and  I  have  observed  that  when 
there  has  been  no  preparation  in  the  way  of  public  announce- 
ments of  services,  the  people  have  not  come  out,  and  the 
mission  has  been  a  failure.  Where  there  has  been  a  regular 
system  of  visitation,  without  prayer,  the  congregations  have 
been  abundant,  but  the  services  have  been  dry  and  hard ; 
but  in  places  where  preparation  and  visitation  have  been 


REAL  AWAKENING. 


183 


made  with  much  prayer,  there  has  ever  been  a  most  unmis- 
takable blessing.  So  much  for  human  agencies,  which  are 
necessary  to  us,  though  God  is  not  bound  to  them. 

There  had  been  no  preparation  for  the  mission  I  am 
about  to  tell  of,  no  visitation,  nor  any  special  prayer ;  and 
yet  it  pleased  the  Lord  to  give  in  this  little  village  such  an 
outpouring  of  His  Spirit  and  demonstration  of  His  power  as 
is  rarely  known.  There  was  a  great  running  together  of  the 
people,  notwithstanding  the  difficulties  of  access  to  the 
church.  Some  had  to  come  several  miles  from  the  towns 
by  road,  some  by  sea,  and  others  across  a  tidal  river  where 
mud  abounded  ;  and  after  landing,  they  had  to  climb  a 
steep  hill.  None  of  these  things,  however,  deterred  or  dis- 
couraged them ;  they  came,  and  they  would  come,  in  spite 
of  everything  which  was  urged  at  other  times  as  an  excuse 
for  staying  away,  even  on  dark  nights.  It  was  the  day  of 
the  Lord's  power,  and  He  made  them  willing ;  so  much  so, 
that  in  some  places  work  was  suspended,  and  people  came 
even  three  times  a  day. 

On  the  Monday  evening,  when  I  arrived,  I  found  that 
the  church  would  scarcely  hold  the  people  who  had  gathered 
to  hear  the  Word  of  God.  It  was  a  time  of  much  blessing, 
and  we  remained  there  hard  at  work  till  eleven  o'clock, 
when,  having  four  miles  to  go  in  order  to  get  home,  I  closed 
the  service,  offering  to  meet  any  anxious  souls  there  at  half- 
past  ten  the  next  morning.  This  I  did,  and  was  surprised 
to  find  a  number  of  persons  waiting,  even  at  this  early  hour. 
There  were  too  many  to  speak  to  individually,  so  I  ad- 
dressed them  collectively,  giving  the  ordinary  instruction 
to  seeking  souls.  In  the  afternoon  we  had  a  still  larger 
number,  and  in  the  evening  a  crowded  congregation ;  in 
this  way  the  work  continued,  with  three  services  a  day 
throughout  the  week,  accompanied  with  remarkable  conver- 
sions every  day. 

9 


FROM  DEATH  INTO  LIFE. 


Among  the  number  of  those  who  attended  were  a  surgeon, 
his  wife  and  brother,  and  the  wife  of  a  respectable  yeoman. 
These,  together  with  several  more  from  the  village  on  the 
other  side  of  the  river,  were  converted  to  God.  Their  rector 
was  amazed  to  see  them  so  changed,  and  wondered  by  what 
process  this  was  accomplished.  He  attended  an  afternoon 
service,  and  was  astonished  to  see  so  many  people  present 
on  a  week-day.  Aftenvards  introducing  himself,  he  asked 
me  very  politely,  "What  is  the  secret  of  all  this?"  He  said, 
"  I  have  heard  you  preach,  and  certainly  do  not  agree  with 
most  part  of  what  you  said,  nor  do  I  see  anything  either  in 
your  manner  or  matter  which  can  account  for  this  effect  and 
work  amongst  the  people.  I  must  say,  I  cannot  ask  you  to 
my  pulpit,  but  I  should  much  like  a  talk  with  you.  Will  you 
come  over  to  luncheon  with  me  ?  " 

I  liked  the  candour  and  gentlemanly  bearing  of  the  man, 
and  wished  to  go,  but  could  not  fix  a  time  while  I  was  so 
much  occupied;  so  I  promised  I  would  write,  and  offer 
him  a  visit  when  I  had  more  leisure. 

In  addition  to  the  three  services  in  church,  we  had 
another  in  the  morning  at  seven  o'clock,  in  the  town  where 
I  slept.  There  we  gathered  the  anxious  ones  who  had  been 
at  the  church  the  night  before,  and  had  come  away  early  on 
account  of  the  distance.  The  little  town  was  all  in  a  com- 
motion, and  the  vicar  in  this  place  was  beginning  to  get 
furious  about  my  holding  this  meeting  in  his  parish ;  his 
daughter,  in  particular,  went  about  warning  the  people 
against  attending  it.  Some  young  men  hired  a  four-oared 
boat  to  come  to  the  evening  service,  intending  to  disturb 
the  congregation.  They  arrived  in  good  time,  but,  for  all 
that,  they  were  too  late  to  get  a  seat.  One  young  man,  the 
ringleader  of  the  party,  instead  of  causing  a  disturbance, 
stood  still  and  listened  most  attentively.  I  preached  that 
evening  from  the  words,  "And  the  door  was  shut,"  referring 


THE  NIGHT  STORM. 


[85 


to  the  ark,  and  the  awful  desolation  and  doom  of  those  who 
were  shut  out.  All  the  time  I  was  preaching,  I  could  see 
this  same  man  standing  before  the  pulpit,  with  his  elbow 
leaning  on  the  end  of  a  high  pew.  He  maintained  this 
position  throughout  the  service,  and  at  the  end  of  the 
sermon  was  still  there,  rigid  and  stiff,  looking  at  the  pulpit 
as  if  in  a  trance.  He  would  not  move  or  speak ;  there  he 
stood,  till  we  feared  he  had  gone  out  of  his  mind.  His 
companions  were  awed,  and  took  him  away  as  well  as  they 
could,  but  did  not  embark  on  their  return  journey  till  after 
midnight,  and  then  the  tide  was  against  them. 

Soon  after  they  had  started,  the  wind  rose,  and  there 
came  on  a  great  storm  ;  the  thunder  was  loud,  and  the 
flashes  of  lightning  awful.  The  wind  became  so  strong  and 
violent,  that,  in  spite  of  all  their  efforts,  the  boat  was 
stranded ;  they  managed,  however,  to  get  out  and  pull  it  out 
of  the  water,  and  took  refuge  for  a  time  under  overhanging 
rocks  on  the  shore.  The  young  man  continued  as  one 
stunned,  and  said  nothing.  There  they  remained  till 
between  four  and  five  o'clock  in  the  morning,  when  the 
storm  abated,  and  they  were  able  to  set  out  again.  At  last 
they  succeeded  in  reaching  home. 

While  these  unfortunate  young  men  were  battling  with 
the  elements,  we  went  home  by  land  and  had  a  night's  rest, 
though  it  was  but  a  short  one.  I  rose  and  went  to  my  meet- 
ing at  seven  o'clock,  and  on  arriving  found  the  room  quite 
full,  there  being  only  one  chair  unoccupied.  As  I  stood  to 
speak,  this  seat  remained  vacant,  so  I  beckoned  a  young 
man  who  was  standing  at  the  door  to  come  and  take  it.  He 
looked  worn  and  sad,  and  I  thought  I  recognized  in  him 
the  same  young  man  I  had  noticed  the  previous  night,  and 
who,  I  was  told,  was  the  ringleader  of  the  party  who  came 
in  the  boat  with  the  purpose  of  disturbing  the  meeting.  He 
sat  down,  sighing  heavily  several  times. 


FROM  DEATH  INTO  LIFE. 


Almost  directly  a  man  came  fonvard  and  whispered  to 
me,  "  You  have  a  wolf  near  you — take  care  ! " 

"All  right,"  I  said:  "he  is  tame  enough  now;  there  is 
no  more  bite  in  him." 

"  Yes,  yes,"  said  the  young  man,  overhearing  us,  "  no 
more  wolf.    O  God,  change  me  to  a  lamb  ! " 

Poor  fellow !  he  was  in  great  trouble  all  day,  and  fainted 
away  several  times  before  he  found  peace,  which  he  did 
very  clearly.  He  came  to  the  evening  meeting,  shouting 
"  Hallelujah ! "  and  stirred  us  all  greatly.  Several  others 
of  the  same  party  were  also  converted. 

The  news  of  this  made  some  of  the  town's  people 
furious ;  and,  being  the  fifth  of  November,  they  consoled 
themselves  by  making  a  straw  effigy  to  represent  me.  They 
put  on  it  a  sheet  in  place  of  a  surplice,  with  a  paper  mitre 
on  its  head,  and,  setting  it  on  a  donkey,  carried  it  through 
the  town,  accompanied  by  a  crowd  of  men  and  boys,  who 
shouted  at  the  top  of  their  voices,  "  Here  goes  the  Puseyite 
revivalist !  Here  goes  the  Puseyite  revivalist !  Hurrah  ! 
Hurrah  !"  In  this  complimentary  sport  the  curate  and  one 
of  the  churchwardens  took  part. 

That  same  night  this  churchwarden  (who,  I  should  say, 
had  been  one  of  the  boating  party  two  nights  before)  had  a 
dream.  He  dreamt  that  his  house  was  full  of  people,  just 
like  the  church  he  had  been  in  ;  all  the  rooms,  the  staircase, 
and  even  his  own  bedroom,  were  filled  with  people  standing. 
There  was  a  tremendous  storm  of  wind  and  rain ;  the 
thunder  rolled,  and  the  lightning  flashed.  In  the  midst  of 
this  a  voice  said  to  him,  "  This  is  all  about  you,  you  sinner!" 
He  awoke  up  out  of  his  sleep  in  a  terrible  fright,  and  began 
to  cry  to  the  Lord  to  have  mercy  on  his  soul. 

I  was  sent  for  before  five  o'clock  in  the  morning  to  come 
and  see  him,  for  his  friends  said  that  they  thought  he  would 
go  out  of  his  mind.    Instead  of  this,  he  came  to  his  right 


THE  CURATE  OFFENDED. 


187 


mind,  for  the  Lord  heard  and  answered  his  prayer,  and 
brought  him  from  darkness  into  light,  and  from  the  power  of 
sin  and  Satan  unto  God.  He  went  with  me  to  the  early 
morning  meeting ;  there  we  had  the  two  chief  leaders  of  the 
riotous  party  in  a  changed  condition,  for  which  we  heartily 
thanked  God. 

Their  friend,  the  curate,  was  very  excited  and  angry 
about  this,  and  did  not  quite  know  who  to  blame.  He  said 
that  he  would  write  to  the  Bishop  and  tell  him  what  was 
going  on ;  and  I  believe  he  did  not  fail  to  carry  out  this 
intention.  As  there  were  many  who,  from  various  causes, 
were  unable  to  go  four  miles  to  an  evening  service,  I 
managed  to  secure  the  Town  Hall  for  a  course  of  lectures 
on  the  "  Pilgrim's  Progress."  The  curate  came  to  the  first, 
and,  after  hearing  the  lecture,  stood  up  to  speak,  and  gave 
vent  to  his  feelings  by  saying  a  great  many  very  angry 
things.  The  people  were  so  indignant,  that  I  could  scarcely 
restrain  them  from  laying  hands  on  him  to  turn  him  out. 

Some  of  the  old  forms  and  seats  in  the  Town  Hall 
(which  was  not  accustomed  to  be  so  crowded)  broke  down 
with  the  weight  of  people.  The  vicar's  daughter  suggested 
that  most  likely  they  should  hear  next  that  "  the  forms  and 
seats  were  converted,  for  she  had  been  told  already  that  they 
were  broken  down."  This  little  straw  will  show  which  way 
the  wind  blew  in  that  quarter,  and  what  was  the  drift  of  this 
lady's  mind. 

My  friend  with  whom  I  was  staying  was  evidently  much 
perplexed,  and  found  himself  let  in  for  far  more  than  he 
had  calculated  when  he  invited  me.  He  certainly  would 
never  have  asked  me  had  he  foreseen  such  an  upset  as 
there  was  everywhere,  especially  in  the  town  in  which  he 
lived,  and  the  country  parish  of  which  he  was  vicar. 

At  last  he  made  up  his  mind  to  take  me  with  him  to 
consult  a  clerical  neighbour,  upon  whose  judgment  he 


i88 


FROM  DEA  TH  INTO  LIFE. 


greatly  relied.  On  our  way  a  sudden  thought  of  misgiving 
came  over  him  ;  he  all  at  once  turned  to  me  and  said,  "  I 
say,  my  friend,  I'll  be  done  with  you  altogether  if  you  say 
Mr.  is  not  converted  ! " 

"  Then,"  I  replied,  "  you  may  be  sure  I  will  not  say  it." 

"  But  suppose  you  think  so  ?  " 

"Well,  I  must  confess  I  think  so  already,  and  not 
without  good  reason  (at  least,  to  my  mind),  for  he  has  taken 
no  interest  whatever  in  this  remarkable  work  of  God,  nor 
has  he  shown  the  least  sympathy  in  the  spiritual  welfare  of 
many  of  his  parishioners,  who  have  received  blessing  at  the 
meetings.  His  High  Church  neighbour,  who  does  not  pro- 
fess to  be  converted,  could  not  help  coming  over  to  ask 
about  it,  while  your  friend  has  never  been  near,  nor  even 
sent  to  make  inquiry.  Besides  this,  one  of  his  own  people 
told  me  that  he  was  much  put  out,  and  very  angry  with  you 
for  asking  me." 

"  Ah,"  said  my  friend,  "  we  are  not  all  revivalists  like 
you,  remember." 

"  Well,"  I  said,  "  let  me  hope  you  are  a  deal  better  than 
I  am." 

He  seemed  very  uneasy  at  taking  me  on  after  this  con- 
versation ;  but  as  he  had  written  to  say  we  were  coming,  he 
thought  we  must  go  forward.  In  order  to  ease  his  mind,  I 
made  an  agreement  with  him  that  during  luncheon  I  would 

tell  about  the  conversion  of  one  of  Mr.  's  parishioners, 

and  said,  "  While  I  do  so,  you  watch  his  face.  If  he  is  at 
all  interested,  I  will  conclude  that  I  am  wrong,  and  that  he 
is  converted  ;  but  if  he  is  not,  I  will  leave  you  to  judge  for 
yourself  I  must  say,  I  cannot  understand  a  converted  man 
not  interested  in  the  conversion  of  others,  even  if  it  does 
nothing  more  than  remind  him  of  his  own." 

My  friend  agreed  to  this,  and  seemed  somewhat  relieved 
in  his  mind. 


REVIVAL!— WHAT  IS  THAT?''  189 


On  our  arrival,  Mr.   received  us  courteously,  and 

asked  after  the  family — indeed,  about  everything  he  could 
think  of  but  the  work. 

My  friend,  after  a  little  pause,  said,  "  Have  you  not 
heard  of  the  revival  ?  " 

"  Revival !  "  he  said,  calmly.    "  What  is  that  ?  " 

"  The  special  services  in  my  church." 

"  What  services  ?  " 

This  evidently  was  enough.  He  went  out  of  the  room 
to  try  and  liurry  the  luncheon.  My  friend  looked  very 
thoughtful,  and  said  nothing,  but  was  clearly  beginning  to 
suspect  that  the  judgment  I  had  formed  was  not  far  wrong. 

In  course  of  the  luncheon  I  told  my  story,  but  not 
without  being  interrupted  over  and  over  ngain  by  the  host's 
attentions,  and  importunities  to  "take  more  vegetables." 
"  Have  you  any  salt  ? "  "  Will  you  take  some  bread  ?  " 
"Will  you  not  take  a  glass  of  wine?"  It  was  quite  evident 
he  wished  the  story  at  an  end. 

My  friend  said,  "  That  is  one  of  your  parishioners  he  is 
talking  about." 

"  I  suspected  so,"  he  replied.  "  All  I  can  say  is,  that  if 
Mr.  Haslam  had  only  known  that  man  as  long  as  I  have,  he 
would  never  speak  of  him  as  he  does.  This  is  not  the  first 
profession  he  has  made.  .He  has  been  reformed  and  changed 
several  times  before  this,  and  has  always  become  worse 
afterwards." 

"That  is  just  the  very  thing  Haslam  says,"  said  my 
friend — "  that  some  reformations  are  all  flesh,  and  not  the 
work  of  God ;  and,  as  such,  can  never  stand.  I  believe  the 
man  to  be  converted  by  God  this  time." 

"  We  will  see — we  will  see,"  said  our  host,  quietly  helping 
himself  to  a  glass  of  wine.  "  For  my  own  part,  I  don't 
believe  in  these  things." 

My  friend  and  I  exchanged  looks.    I  was  silent,  but  he 


igo  FROM  DEA  TH  INTO  LIFE. 

continued,  "  I  am  bound  to  say  that  /  was  never  converted 
before,  nor  yet  my  wife,  my  daughter,  or  my  sister." 

"  What ! "  said  the  vicar,  starting,  "  you  mean  your  sister 
Mary  ?  Well,  that  is  enough !  I  don't  wish  to  hear 
another  word  about  your  conversions  after  that !    I  can 

only  say  that  if  I  were  half  as  good  as  Mrs.  S  ,  I  should 

be  well  satisfied." 

"  Well,  now,"  replied  my  friend,  "  do  come  over  and  see 
her,  and  hear  what  she  has  to  say  about  it  herself." 

"  No,  thank  you,"  he  replied ;  "  I  have  no  desire  to 
interfere  in  such  matters." 

There  the  conversation  stopped,  leaving  a  wall  of  sepa 
ration  between  the  two  clerical  brothers,  who  had  together 
professed  to  be  Evangelical,  and  cordially  hated  sacra- 
mental religion.  They  had  also  professed  to  believe  in 
salvation  by  faith  only ;  but  for  all  this  they  never  urged  upon 
their  people  to  perform  any  acts  of  faith — they  only  expected 
them  to  receive  the  doctrine.  I  found  that  such  people 
opposed  me  and  my  work  a  great  deal  more  than  even  High 
Church  men. 

My  friend  and  I  returned  home,  and  he  told  his  wife  and 
sister  the  result  of  our  visit.  They  said  that  they  were  not 
surprised,  for  they  had  made  up  their  minds  on  the  subject, 
and  were  quite  sure  that  Mr.  had  no  personal  expe- 
rience, though  he  was  so  intelligent  about  the  doctrine  of 
salvation  by  faith. 

The  work,  in  the  meantime,  went  on  and  spread.  Some 

of  the  people  came  over  from  Mr.  's  parish  to  ask  me 

to  come  and  preach  to  them  in  a  large  sail-loft,  which  they 
had  prepared  for  the  purpose.  My  friend  would  not  consent 
to  my  going,  and  I  was  obliged  to  give  them  a  refusal.  The 
next  day  they  sent  again,  not  to  ask  me  to  preach,  but  if  I 
would  just  come  over  to  visit  a  sick  man  who  was  anxious 
about  his  soul.    My  friend  hesitated  at  this  also.    I  said. 


IN  THE  SAIL-LOFT. 


191 


"  WTiy  do  you  object  to  my  going  to  see  the  poor  fellow  ? 
You  took  me  to  the  vicarage  to  talk  to  the  vicar  himself; 
surely  you  can  let  me  go  and  do  the  same  thing  to  one  of 
his  parishioners." 

"  No,"  he  said,  "  I  cannot  j  that  is  quite  a  different 
thing." 

Seeing  that  he  was  unwilling,  and  that  it  would  displease 
him,  I  gave  it  up,  and  went  to  the  messengers  and  said, 
"  I  cannot  go." 

They  were  not  satisfied,  and  asked  "  if  the  ladies  would 
please  to  go  ; "  meaning  my  late  dear  wife  and  Mrs.  S.  (Mary), 
whom  they  had  seen  working  in  the  after-meetings. 

My  friend  did  not  see  any  objection  to  the  ladies  going, 
and  the  men  seemed  better  pleased  than  if  I  had  gone. 
They  visited  the  sick  man  the  next  day,  and  after  that  were 
asked  "  just  to  come  and  speak  to  a  few  people  up  here  " — 
that  was,  in  the  adjoining  sail-loft.  On  entering  this  place, 
to  their  astonishment  they  saw  about  three  hundred  people 
sitting  quietly  waiting. 

"  What  is  this  ?  "  asked  my  wife. 

The  man  said,  "  I  only  asked  a  few,  but  all  those  people 
are  come.  Do  give  them  just  a  word."  She  had  never  yet 
ventured  on  addressing  a  large  company  like  that,  and  Mary 
was  shocked  at  the  idea;  but  still,  they  were  afraid  to 
refuse ;  so  they  mounted  the  carpenter's  bench,  which  was 
placed  there  with  two  chairs  on  it ;  and  after  a  hymn  and 
prayer,  Mrs.  H.  gave  an  address,  which  Mary  toM  me  after- 
wards "  was  far  better  than  anything  I  ever  preached." 
They  had  an  after-meeting,  and  some  conversions,  and 
promised  to  come  over  again.  Thus  the  work  spread  to 
another  part,  and  I  had  to  go  there  also. 

Poor  Mr.    was  very  excited  about  this,  and  said 

that  he  "thought  it  most  ungentlemanly."  I  daresay  it 
was,  and  that  I  was  somewhat  uncouth  ;  but  I  never  stop 


192 


FROM  DEA  TII  INTO  LIFE. 


to  consider  prejudices  and  fancies  when  the  Lord's  work  is 
in  the  way. 

It  was  a  widespread  and  remarkable  awakening,  and  one 
not  without  much  opposition  and  jealousy.  I  happened  to 
say  from  the  pulpit,  that  at  one  time  before  I  knew  the  truth 
I  used  to  be  quite  a  popular  man :  people  liked  me,  and 
clergymen  let  me  preach  in  their  pulpits ;  but  now  that  I 
had  something  to  tell  for  the  good  of  souls,  they  seemed  to 
agree  to  keep  me  out.  Very  few  were  so  bold  as  the  vicar 
of  this  parish,  who  had  not  only  invited  me,  but  stood  by 
me  also. 

A  neighbouring  clergyman,  who  was  an  important  man — 
a  prebendary,  and  what  not — wrote  to  the  vicar  to  ask  if  it 
was  true  that  I  had  said  in  the  pulpit  that  my  clerical 
brethren  scouted  me,  and  would  not  let  me  preach  for 
them. 

The  vicar  very  wisely  handed  the  indignant  prebendary's 
letter  over  to  me  to  answer,  which  I  did.  In  my  reply,  I 
took  the  opportunity  to  put  in  some  Gospel  teaching,  which 
was  supposed  to  be  very  irrelevant  matter,  and  counted 
evasive.  I  did  not  deny  that  I  had  said  something  to  the 
effect  of  which  he  complained,  but  I  pleaded  in  extenuation 
that  I  was  justified  in  doing  so.  He  was  more  enraged  by 
my  letter  than  by  the  report  he  had  heard,  and  threatened 
to  publish  the  correspondence.  This  he  did,  with  a  letter 
to  his  parishioners,  in  which  he  warned  them  against  revivals 
in  general,  and  me  in  particular.  He  told  them  that  I 
was  "  infatuated  that  I  had  "  usurped  the  judgment  seat 
of  Christ ;"  that  I  was  "  the  accuser  of  the  brethren that  I 
"acted  the  devil's  part  now,  and  was  to  be  his  companion 
hereafter."  I  thought  of  giving  more  choice  extracts  from 
this  publication,  but  on  second  thoughts  I  consider  it  better 
to  pass  it  over. 


CHAPTER  XXII. 


1854. 

bygones  be  bygones.    I  am  thankful  to  say 
times  are  changed,  but  the  letter  referred  to  in 
the  last  chapter,  though  expressing  the  sentiments 
of  one  man,  yet  showed  the  feeling  of  many 
others.    I  do  not  complain  of  it,  for  I  must  say  I  rather  like 
the  outspoken  opposition  of  the  natural  heart ;  it  is  far 
better,  and  much  less  trying,  than  smiling  indifference  or 
hollow  assent. 

The  work  which  began  in  this  part  went  on  and  spread. 
The  refusal  of  the  clergy  to  take  it  up  sent  it  to  the  chapels, 
where  it  was  continued  for  miles  round.  For  this  reason  I 
was  charged  then,  and  have  been  since,  with  encouraging 
Dissent,  but  the  accusation  sits  very  lightly  on  me,  for  I 
know  what  I  would  rather  have.  Notliing  would  please  me 
so  well  as  to  have  the  clergy  converted,  and  taking  up  the 
work ;  but  if  they  will  not,  then  I  would  rather  that  the 
Dissenters  had  the  benefit,  than  that  it  should  die  out  and  be 
lost.  Dissent  makes  division,  but  it  is  necessary  for  vitality, 
under  present  circumstances,  and  counteracts  the  great  evii 
of  spiritual  death.    The  light  of  God  ought  to  be  in  the 


194  FROM  DEA  TH  INTO  LIFE. 


Church  of  England,  for  it  is  the  Lord's  candlestick  in  this 
land ;  but  when  the  truth  is  not  represented,  and  the  Church 
is  dark,  it  is  a  mercy  that  God  has  been  pleased  to  raise  up 
witnesses  for  Himself  in  other  bodies. 

The  Calvinist,  with  a  needless  bitterness,  holds  up  God's 
sovereignty,  as  if  man's  will  were  not  free ;  the  Arminian 
is  equally  energetic  for  man's  responsibility,  as  if  God  were 
not  sovereign ;  and  the  Quaker  is  a  witness  for  the  work  of 
the  Spirit.  These,  and  several  others,  each  maintain  their 
particular  doctrine.  They  are  raised  up  to  show  respectively 
their  own  portion  of  the  light,  because  the  Church,  which 
has  in  her  formularies  all  these  great  truths,  is  remiss  in  her 
duty.  The  full  blaze  of  light  which  ought  to  be  emitted 
from  her  to  all  sides,  is  shed  upon  her  in  detail  from  others ; 
and  her  members  are  too  often  lighted  from  without,  and 
not  from  within. 

In  many  parishes  there  was  no  light,  and  no  life  or  testi- 
mony in  the  Church  ;  and  had  it  not  been  for  the  chapels, 
men  and  women  might  have  perished  in  ignorance  and 
error. 

Imperfect  and  erroneous  as  was  some  of  the  Gospel  which 
was  preached  in  chapels  and  rooms,  there  was  more  vitality 
in  it,  and  also  more  saving  power,  than  in  the  refined  and 
critical  teaching  which  emanated  from  many  of  the  accre- 
dited and  accepted  preachers  of  the  land.  Where  the 
Church  was  rising  up  into  energetic  action,  in  too  many 
cases  it  had  a  sectarian,  and  not  a  catholic  object — that  is 
to  say,  it  was  aiming  to  make  Churchmen  and  communi- 
cants, or  members  of  guilds,  instead  of  proclaiming  the 
Gospel  for  the  salvation  of  souls. 

The  sovereignty  of  God,  the  responsibility  of  man,  and 
the  work  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  were  frequently  altogether 
overlooked,  although  this  is  the  true  catholic  teaching.  In 
this  I  comprehend  not  only  the  bringing  of  souls  from  the 


THE  HIGH  CHURCH  RECTOR. 


195 


power  of  Satan  to  God,  that  they  may  receive  the  forgive- 
ness of  sins,  but  also  that  behevers  might  go  on  to  have 
"  an  inheritance  among  them  that  are  sanctified  by  faith 
in  Christ  Jesus."  Churchism,  with  its  sacramentalism,  is  as 
sectarian  as  any  form  of  Dissent,  Romanism  included ; 
for  it  falls  short  of  God's  object,  as  declared  in  the 
Word. 

When  the  work  at  Golant  church  abated,  I  had  more 
time  for  looking  about;  so  I  proffered  a  visit  to  the  High 
Church  rector,  who  had  asked  me  to  come  over  and  tell 
him  the  secret  of  my  success.  He  readily  fixed  upon  a 
day,  so  I  went  over  to  luncheon ;  after  which  we  began  to 
talk.  The  curate,  who  was  present,  and  who  had  heard 
some  ranters  shouting  and  screaming  in  the  "shires,"  kept 
on  every  now  and  then  putting  in  a  word  of  caution  to 
restrain  the  rector  from  admitting  too  much ;  for  little  by 
little  he  was  yielding  to  me.  I  spoke  of  letting  down  the 
nets  for  a  draught,  and  catching  men,  not  to  smother  and 
kill  them  in  some  Church  system,  or  by  some  erroneous 
teaching,  but  to  keep  them  alive.  "  This,"  I  said,  "  is  the 
meaning  of  the  word  in  the  original ;"  and  we  looked  it  out 
in  the  Greek.  It  was  ver)'  interesting.  We  then  talked  over 
the  difference  between  the  Church  system  and  that  of  the 
Bible.  The  one,  I  said,  makes  apostolic  succession  and 
the  sacraments  the  channel  of  salvation ;  the  other  the 
Word  of  God,  as  applied  by  the  Holy  Ghost. 

We  had  a  great  battle  on  this  point,  two  against  one ; 
but  having  the  Word  of  God  on  my  side,  I  stood  by  my 
experience.  I  had  myself  been  on  the  other  side,  and  was 
then  ten  times  more  zealous  and  earnest  than  these  two 
were.  I  said,  "  I  used  to  preach  salvation  by  Church  and 
sacraments  once,  but  I  was  not  saved  that  way.  I  used 
also  to  teach  that  the  new  birth  was  by  Baptism ;  but  I  was 
not  born  again  when  I  was  baptized.    Were  you  i    Are  you 


,96 


FROM  DBA  TH  INTO  LIFE. 


quite  sure  that,  with  all  your  faith  in  B  iptismal  Regeneration, 
you  are  born  again  of  the  Spirit  ?  Are  you  satisfied  that 
you  are  now  saved  because  you  are  in  the  Church?" 

They  were  dumb.  So  I  went  on  to  say,  "  I  have  no 
party  or  sectarian  object  in  my  work ;  my  only  desire  is  to 
bring  souls  to  Christ  Himself  for  salvation.  I  used,  as  a 
priest,  to  think  I  was  mediator  between  Christ  and  the 
sinner,  and  that  I  had  received  by  delegation  some  power 
for  this  purpose;  but  now  that  I  have  been  over  the 
ground  experimentally,  I  would  as  soon  blaspheme  God  in 
your  presence,  as  dare  to  absolve  a  sinner,  or  come  bet\veen 
Christ  and  him.  My  orders  are  to  bring  them  from  the 
power  of  Satan  to  God,  and  to  Christ  crucified,  for  forgive- 
ness of  sins." 

At  this  point,  the  rector  brought  out  a  printed  sermon 
by  Dr.  Pusey,  on  Justification  by  Faith,  which  he  had  been 
carefully  reading.  I  asked  him  to  read  it  to  me.  The 
first  few  pages  contained  statements  of  the  doctrine  in  New 
Testament  words,  with  a  fair  exposition  of  them ;  but  when 
the  author  came  to  his  own  thoughts  about  the  subject, 
he  said  that  Baptism  was  the  cause  of  justification.  Here 
I  challenged  the  statement,  and  said,  "  Have  you  any 
references  there — any  '  stars  '  or  '  daggers  '  to  that  ?  " 

"Yes,"  he  answered,  "references  to  the  Fathers." 

I  replied,  that  "the  Fatherswere  not  inspired.  There  is  no 
such  thing  as  '  Justification  by  Baptism '  in  the  Scriptures ; 
it  is  by  faith  only,  as  you  will  see  in  the  fifth  chapter  of  the 
Epistle  to  the  Romans." 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  "  that  is  just  what  Dr.  Pusey  means — 
Faith,  as  shown  in  Baptism." 

"  Then,"  I  said,  "according  to  that,  in  your  Baptism 
you  were  justified  by  Faith  ;  and  as  a  consequence  you  have 
peace  with  God,  and  have  access  into  grace,  and  rejoice  in 
the  hope  of  the  glory  of  God.    You  will  see  that  St.  Paul 


DR.  PUSEY'S  SERMON. 


197 


connects  this  experience  with  what  he  calls  Justification 
by  Faith.  Evidently  he  did  not  expect  so  much  from 
Baptism  as  you  do,  or  for  a  certainty  he  would  have  bap- 
tized every  one  he  could  reach ;  but,  instead  of  this,  he 
thanked  God  that  he  had  only  baptized  a  few  persons 
whom  he  named  (i  Cor.  i.  14 — 17).  He  had  gone  about 
for  three  years,  teaching  the  Ephesian  Christians,  even  with 
tears,  and  he  called  them  to  witness,  not  that  he  had  ad- 
ministered the  sacraments,  and  done  priestly  work  among 
them,  but  that  he  had  ceased  not  to  teach,  and  to  preach, 
•  repentance  toward  God  and  faith  toward  our  Lord  Jesus 
Christ'"  (Acts  xx.  21). 

My  two  High  Church  friends  were  not  convinced, 
though  they  could  not  answer  me.  It  was  a  question  in 
their  minds  who  was  right,  Dr.  Pusey,  or  this  "  Fanatical 
Revivalist." 

"  Come,"  I  said,  "  there  is  your  man-servant  outside  in 
the  garden ;  he  was  converted  two  weeks  ago ;  and  though 
he  cannot  read,  I  feel  sure  he  knows  more  about  this 
experience  than  the  author  of  that  learned  sermon.  Let  us 
call  him  in,  and  read  a  few  pages." 

We  did,  and  told  him  to  sit  down  while  we  read  a  little 
while. 

The  rector  began,  and,  as  he  went  on,  Sam's  face  lit 
up  with  joy,  until  the  rector  came  to  the  sacramental  pas- 
sages; then  any  one  could  see  Sam's  interest  was  gone.  He 
became  very  restless,  and  at  last  interrupting,  said,  respect- 
fully, "  If  you  please,  sir,  is  there  much  more  of  that  ?  " 

"Why,  Sam,"  said  his  master,  "don't  you  like  it?" 

"No,  sir,"  he  said  ;  "that  man  ain't  converted  at  all !" 

"Well,  that  is  strange,"  said  the  rector;  "I  saw  his 
interest  went  off  just  at  the  very  point  where  you  took 
exception  to  the  sermon.  You  and  Sam  understand  some- 
thing that  I  do  not  know. " 


198 


FROM  DEATH  INTO  LIFE. 


Thus  our  sermon-reading  concluded,  and,  besides  this, 
my  witness  had  given  his  testimony. 

I  had  stayed  already  two  hours  longer  than  I  intended, 
and  was  tired  of  talking.  The  rector  asked  me  to  remain, 
and  dine  with  him,  and  promised  that  he  would  send  me  to 
church  in  the  evening  in  time  for  the  service.  I  agreed  to 
this ;  so  he  kindly  took  me  upstairs  to  wash  and  rest. 
Coming  into  the  room  with  me,  he  shut  the  door,  and  said 
in  confidence, 

"  I  know  you  are  right ;  my  mother  taught  me  all  this 
when  I  was  young  ! " 

"Then,"  I  said,  "we  had  better  kneel  down  and  pray 
about  it." 

We  did  so.  In  his  prayer  he  entreated  very  earnestly 
that  the  scales  might  fall  from  his  eyes,  and  that  these 
truths  which  he  loved  when  he  was  young  might  be  brought 
to  him  again. 

He  was  only  praying  for  truth,  and  not  for  pardon  and 
salvation ;  so  I  pointed  this  out  to  him. 

"  Yes — yes,"  he  said  j  "  Lord,  save  me  !  Lord,  save 
me  !   Pardon  me  ! " 

I  believe  he  found  peace  before  he  came  down ;  but  it  is 
more  difficult  to  pronounce  in  the  case  of  educated,  than  in 
that  of  uneducated  people.  In  the  latter,  the  transition  from 
darkness  to  light  and  life  is  often  very  manifest ;  whereas  in 
the  case  of  the  educated,  the  effect  is  not  so  clear. 

However,  he  came  down  to  dinner,  and  it  was  not  long 
before  he  roused  the  anger  and  contempt  of  his  wife  and 
curate,  by  saying,  "I  am  converted."  They  tried  hard  to 
laugh  him  out  of  it,  and  asked  him  which  of  the  chapels  he 
would  join  ?  They  suggested  he  had  better  be  a  Bryanite ; 
Mr.  Haslam  is  king  of  the  Brj-anites ;  and  so  on  ! 

I  was  happy  to  hear  all  this,  and  could  not  help  telling 
them  so :  first,  because  the  rector  was  counted  worthy  of 


NARROW  ESCAPE. 


199 


such  taunts;  and,  secondly,  because  their  natural  enmity 
was  raised.  I  said  that  I  hoped  that  they  would  both  be 
converted  also,  and  that  very  soon. 

When  I  was  leaving  for  my  service,  the  rector,  in  bidding 
me  good-bye,  said,  that  he  "  was  sorry  he  could  not  go  with 
me ;  but  would  I  come  and  preach  in  his  pulpit  on 
Sunday  ?  "    I  promised  that  I  would. 

On  the  way,  Sam,  who  was  driving  me  to  church, 
became  much  excited,  and  seemed  beside  himself  for  joy. 
Putting  up  his  arms  all  of  a  sudden,  with  reins  and  whip  in 
either  hand,  in  the  act  of  praising  God,  he  frightened  the 
horse,  so  that  it  ran  away  at  full  speed. 

"Oh,  never  mind — never  mind  1"  he  said,  "don't  be  fright- 
ened !  No  doubt  the  old  devil  'ud  like  to  upset  both  on  us ; 
but  I  am  sure  the  dear  Lord  will  take  care  of  us  :  don't  fear." 

Certainly  there  was  need,  for  the  horse  went  headlong 
down  a  long  narrow  hill,  and  if  anything  else  had  been  on 
the  road,  we  must  have  come  into  disastrous  collision.  We 
were,  however,  carried  safely  down,  and  reached  the  church 
in  good  time. 

Sam's  joy,  I  need  scarcely  say,  was  all  about  the  master's 
conversion,  and  the  fact  that  I  was  to  preach  in  their  church 
on  Sunday — two  circumstances  he  did  not  fail  to  announce 
to  every  one  he  met. 

He  put  up  his  horse,  and  stayed  for  the  service.  In  the 
after-meeting,  when  he  prayed,  he  sent  up  his  prayer  with  a 
thanksgiving  for  these  two  things,  which  set  the  congre- 
gation praising  God  also. 

Thus  the  revival,  which  began  on  one  side  of  the  river, 
passed  over  to  the  other,  and  brought  out  people  from 
another  town,  and  also  villages  beyond.  There  was  a  great 
awakening  in  that  part  of  the  country.  The  curate  found 
peace  on  the  Sunday,  and  many  more ;  but  not  the  rector's 
wife.    She  continued  her  opposition  most  vigorously. 


200 


FROM  DEATH  INTO  LIFE. 


The  wisdom  of  the  serpent  is  seen  in  capturing  the  wife 
first ;  but  still  I  am  sure  in  this  case  that  the  serpent's 
wisdom  was  outwisdomed,  for  her  persecution  made  her 
husband  pray  and  work  all  the  more  earnestly. 

People  in  these  days  did  not  regard  "  missions "  so 
complacently  as  they  do  now.  The  very  idea  of  preaching 
night  after  night,  not  for  some  Missionary  Society,  or  for 
collections,  but  simply  for  the  conversion  of  souls  and  the 
salvation  of  sinners,  seemed  to  cast  a  slur  upon  ordinary 
preachers,  as  if  they  did  not  aim  at  such  a  thing  \  and  upon 
people  generally,  as  if  we  meant  to  imply  that  they  needed 
it.    Most  certainly  they  did. 

I  believe  ordinary  preachers  in  the  churches  of  that 
neighbourhood  did  not  expect  conversions  ;  and  most  of  the 
people  were  unconverted.  I  could  not  help  telUng  them  so, 
which  only  roused  their  wTath  so  much  the  more. 

From  this  place  I  returned  home;  for  my  prolonged 
absence,  I  found,  was  likely  to  bring  me  into  trouble. 
Other  clergymen  might  go  away  for  months,  travelling  or 
salmon  fishing  ;  but  if  I  was  absent  for  a  few  weeks,  I  was' 
supposed  to  be  neglecting  my  parish.  On  my  return,  I  had 
much  to  tell,  and  did  not  expect  to  be  invited  out  again  in 
a  hurry;  for  very  few  clergymen  would  willingly  desire  to  be 
drawn  into  such  a  whirlwind  of  storm  and  trouble,  as  my 
visits  usually  involved. 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 


^  iHtssion  tn  ^taffarbsljim 

i8s4- 


HE  work  at  Baldhu,  which  had  been  going  on 
almost  incessantly  for  three  years,  was  now 
beginning  to  flag ;  that  is  to  say,  there  was  not 
that  ardent  and  eager  attendance  at  the  services 
and  meetings,  to  which  we  had  been  accustomed  in  the 
revival  time.  We  had  had  occasional  lulls  like  this  before, 
but  they  did  not  last  more  than  a  few  weeks ;  and  then  the 
"  swallows  "  returned,  and  the  bright  hot  summer  of  work 
came  again  with  its  loud  songs  and  pleasant  fruits.  This 
dulness  was  continuing  longer  than  usual  j  the  crowded 
congregations  were  falling  off ;  strangers  did  not  come  from 
a  distance  ;  and  people  at  home  were  not  so  lively.  How- 
ever, the  classes  were  continued,  as  also  the  services  at  the 
church,, and  the  number  of  communicants  did  not  decrease. 
Still  any  one  could  see  that  the  revival  was  over.  It  was 
rather  discouraging  to  me,  and  a  cause  of  triumph  to  some 
outsiders ;  but  we  were  occasionally  cheered  by  work 
amongst  visitors,  and  with  sick-bed  cases. 

The  majority  of  the  people  were  complacently  waiting 
for  another  tide  of  revival;  this  was  their  custom,  but  it  sat 


202 


FROM  DEATH  INTO  LIFE. 


very  uneasily  upon  me.  I  did  not  like  it,  nor  agree  to  it ; 
but  at  that  time  I  knew  not  what  else  to  do,  but  wait  as 
others  did.  I  said  that  we  looked  like  vessels  which  had 
come  so  far  up  the  river  with  the  tide  ;  and  now  that  it  had 
turned  we  were  stranded  and  fast  in  the  mud.  Sometimes 
I  changed  the  figure  to  one  not  so  ignoble,  and  likened 
ourselves  to  the  stately  vessels  anchored  in  Falmouth  har- 
bour, which  were  there  because  the  wind  was  contrary. 
We  were  wind-bound  too,  and  dependent  on  circumstances ; 
but  my  idea  of  true  religion  was  that  we  ought  not  to  be  like 
this.  I  rather  took  for  our  type  the  great  steamers  which 
are  propelled  by  powerful  engines,  and  come  in  and  go  out, 
and  proceed  on  their  voyage  without  regard  to  wind  or 
tide.  We  ought  to  be  constrained,  I  said,  from  within  by 
the  love  of  God,  and  thus  be  enabled  to  show  the  power 
of  grace  by  riding  over  all  obstacles  and  triumphing  in  the 
midst  of  discouragements.  "  He  giveth  songs  in  the 
night"    Any  bird  can  sing  in  the  sunshine. 

The  self-restraint  and  self-control  I  had  exercised  in 
my  churchy  days,  and  which  I  supposed  was  derived  from 
sacraments,  I  found  wanting  in  my  new  work.  We  required 
something  with  authority,  such  as  church  and  priest  supply. 
I  could  not,  however,  conscientiously  go  back  to  that  legal 
system,  nor  did  I  think  there  was  any  need,  for  I  was  sure 
there  was  something  somewhere  to  be  had,  which  should 
and  would  supply  our  want,  if  I  could  but  discover  it.  It 
appeared  to  me  that  my  people,  without  this,  were  subject 
to  impulse,  and  consequently  in  bondage  to  their  feelings. 

In  this  time  of  lull  I  found  that  the  steadfastness  of 
some  was  shaken ;  but  I  had  known  others,  who  had  gone 
further  back  than  these,  return  at  a  revival  time  with  new 
vigour.  In  this  way,  some  of  the  Cornish  people  professed 
to  be  converted  scores  of  times. 

While  ruminating  on  these  things  and  praymg  over 


THE  BISHOP'S  ADVICE. 


203 


them,  I  was  surprised  by  receiving  a  letter  pressing  me  very 
much  to  come  at  once  and  preach  in  a  parish  in  Stafford- 
shire, near  Birmingham.  Mr.  Aitken  had  been  on  a 
mission  in  the  north,  and  on  his  return  had  stopped  a  night 
at  this  place,  and  preached  one  of  his  alarming  and  awaken- 
ing sermons.  The  effect  was  so  great  that  the  people, 
together  with  their  clerg}-man  (a  curate  in  sole  charge)  were 
in  much  trouble  and  anxiety  about  their  souls ;  there  was 
a  gloom  hanging  over  them,  as  if  they  had  been  sentenced 
to  some  dreadful  doom,  and  did  not  know  what  to  do,  or 
how  to  avert  it. 

It  is  a  good  thing  to  wound,  but  it  should  be  with  the 
object  of  making  whole  ;  it  is  a  blessed  thing  to  show 
sinners  their  lost  condition,  but  only  for  the  purpose  of 
getting  them  to  lay  hold  of  the  great  salvation  which  is 
provided  for  such. 

In  his  perplexity  the  curate  went  to  see  the  Bishop 
(Lonsdale)  of  Lichfield.  UTien  his  lordship  had  ascer- 
tained the  cause  of  the  trouble,  he  took  up  a  pamphlet 
which  was  lying  on  the  table,  and  said,  "  If  you  cannot  get 
Mr.  Aitken  back,  send  for  this  gentleman,  and  pay  his 
expenses."  "This  gentleman,"  meant  the  author  of  the 
pamphlet,  which  his  lordship  held  in  his  hand,  namely, 
myself ;  "  his  name  and  address  are  here,"  said  the  Bishop  ; 
"  take  the  book  and  read  it  carefully ;  he  seems  to  have 
both  knowledge  and  experience  in  such  matters." 

I  was  written  to  forthwith,  and  the  letter  urged  me  to 
"come  at  once."  In  compliance,  I  started  off  that  night, 
and  reaching  the  place  on  Saturday  afternoon,  opened  a 
mission  the  same  evening  without  further  notice.  On 
Sunday  I  preached  three  times,  and  went  to  the  school- 
room for  the  after-meeting.  There  we  had  a  scene  which, 
for  noise  and  confusion,  was  quite  Cornish.  Men  and 
women  cried  aloud  for  mercy,  while  some  believers  who 


204  FROM  DEATH  INTO  LIFE. 

were  there  shouted  for  joy.  The  curate  in  charge  was 
completely  bewildered,  but  felt  he  could  do  nothing ;  and 
seeing,  as  he  remarked,  that  I  appeared  to  understand 
it  all,  and  know  what  I  was  about,  he  thought  he  had 
better  remain  still,  till  the  noisy  meeting  w^as  over.  That 
same  night,  before  he  retired,  he  gave  his  heart  to  God. 

The  work  went  on  in  this  place  with  the  force  as  of  an 
explosion  ;  just  as  if  hungry  desires  had  been  pent  up  a 
long  time,  and  now  they  had  vent  and  opportunity  to  be 
satisfied.  The  church  was  crowded  every  day,  even  in  the 
week;  and  we  were  kept  in  the  schoolroom  night  after 
night  till  twelve  and  one  o'clock. 

The  town  was  a  dark,  smoky,  sglphury  place,  and  the 
air  filled  with  exhalations  and  iron  filings  from  the  various 
works.  It  was  a  dreadful  atmosphere,  and  everything  was 
black  and  dirty ;  the  red  fires  from  the  furnaces  around 
glared  all  night  long,  and  presented  an  awful  appearance. 
To  come  from  the  pure  air  and  beautiful  scenery  of  Corn- 
wall into  such  a  place  as  this,  was  most  trying  and  uncom- 
fortable ;  but  the  reward  was  great.  The  work  was  deeply 
interesting,  and  scores  of  men  and  women  of  all  classes, 
besides  five  clergymen,  professed  to  be  converted  that 
week. 

The  devil  did  not  leave  us  alone ;  he  was  very  angry, 
and  raised  up  a  great  opposition.  The  rector  of  the  old 
church,  who  used  to  be  most  benevolent  and  smiling,  sud- 
denly changed,  and  made  it  his  business  to  call  on  the 
curate  in  charge  of  the  church,  to  tell  him  that  he  was  quite 
sure  that  his  friend  the  vicar  (who  was  away  at  the  time  in 
ill  health)  would  never  have  sanctioned  this  excitement. 
The  curate  said  that  the  Bishop  had  bid  him  invite  Mr. 
Haslam,  and  that  he  had  done  so,  not  knowing  anything 
further  about  me  or  my  work.  The  rector  went  off  to 
write  to  the  Bishop  forthwith,  and  in  the  meantime  ordered 


THE  CLERGYMAN'S  REPORT.  205 


bills  to  be  posted  all  over  the  town,  warning  people  against 
"  the  Cornish  fanaticism  at  St.  James's,"  which,  of  course, 
had  the  effect  of  drawing  out  a  greater  concourse  of 
people. 

What  with  excessive  work  and  bad  air,  by  Friday  even- 
ing I  was  quite  exhausted.  I  came  out  of  the  pulpit  to  the 
vestry,  and  remembering  that  Cornish  miners,  in  order  to 
recover  themselves  after  climbing  ladders,  often  found  it 
necessary  to  lie  down  flat  on  the  ground,  I  thought  I  would 
try  the  same  plan  for  a  few  moments  while  the  people  were 
going  out  to  the  schoolroom.  I  did  so ;  and  while  I  was 
in  this  position  a  clergyman  came  in  and  asked  me  if  I  was 
ilL    "  No,"  I  said ;  "  I  am  only  resting  for  a  short  time." 

"  Very  well,"  he  said,  "  rest  on  ;  but  listen  to  me.  The 
Bishop  has  sent  me  here  to  see  and  hear  you,  and  this  is 
my  report  to  his  lordship."  Opening  out  a  paper  he  held 
in  his  hand,  he  read  :  "  St.  James's  crammed  to  excess  with 
a  most  orderly  and  devotional  congregation  ;  their  attention 
to  the  sermon  marked  and  rivetted ;  sermon  from  St.  Luke 
XV.,  verse  2,  'This  Man  receiveth  sinners,  and  eateth  with 
them.'  The  exposition  of  chapter  most  vivid  and  instruc- 
tive ;  never  heard  better,  or  so  good ;  the  application  fer- 
vent and  pointed;  altogether,  most  edifying  service." 
"  There,  that  is  my  report,  so  you  need  not  be  afraid  of 
anything  you  hear.  I  will  tell  the  Bishop  all  about  it. 
Thank  you  very  much  for  what  I  have  heard.  God  bless 
you.    Good-night ! " 

"  Oh,"  I  said,  springing  up  from  the  ground,  "  do  not 
go  yet !  the  best  part  is  to  come.  You  have  only  seen  me 
let  down  the  nets;  come  now  and  see  them  pulled  up." 

"  What  is  that  ?  "  he  said.    "  Where  am  I  to  come  ?  " 

"To  the  schoolroom,"  I  replied,  divesting  myself  of 
my  gown  and  bands,  and  putting  on  my  coat  with  all  haste. 
"  Come  with  me  1 " 


2o6  FROM  DEATH  INTO  LIFE. 

He  seemed  a  little  afraid,  and  asked  many  questions. 
When  we  reached  the  place  we  could  scarcely  get  in,  and 
the  noise  certainly  was  tremendous. 

"What  is  all  this  confusion  about?"  he  asked.  "I 
think  I  had  better  not  go  in  to-night." 

"  Oh,  come  in  !  come  in  ! "  I  said  ;  "  do  not  fear."  But 
somehow  he  slipped  off  in  the  dark,  and  I  did  not  see  him 
again.  When  I  entered,  almost  the  first  thing  I  noticed  was 
the  two  curates  of  the  parish  church,  taking  notes.  However, 
I  did  not  heed  them,  or  ask  to  see  what  they  had  written  ; 
for  I  would  always  rather  have  real  work,  though  with  a 
noise,  than  orderly,  respectable  stillness,  and  spiritual  death. 

On  Saturday  I  rested,  but  was  very  unwell  all  day,  and 
did  not  know  how  I  should  be  able  to  work  on  Sunday. 
When  the  morning  arrived,  my  strength  and  voice  were 
gone ;  it  was  impossible  to  preach.  The  people  met 
together  and  had  a  prayer-meeting  before  the  service,  ask- 
ing the  Lord  to  restore  me.  The  curate  was  so  much 
cheered,  that  he  came  to  me  and  said,  "  If  you  only  get  up 
and  try,  we  feel  sure  you  will  be  able  to  preach."  I  got  up, 
but  had  to  go  to  bed  again,  for  I  was  very  ill. 

Just  before  eleven  o'clock  a  visitor  arrived — a  very 
queer-looking  little  man,  in  a  black  suit  of  Quaker  cut,  and 
a  college  cap  without  a  tassel,  with  the  corners  of  the  square 
board  rounded  off.  Standing  by  my  bed-side  in  this  cos- 
tume, he  said  that  he  was  a  convert  of  Mr.  Aitken's,  and 
had  come  all  the  way  from  Birmingham  to  hear  me. 
"  Moreover,"  he  said,  "  I  am  a  herbal  doctor.  Please  let 
me  feel  your  pulse." 

He  did  so,  and  looking  grave,  sounded  my  lungs,  put 
his  ear  to  my  chest,  and  then  asked,  "  What  is  the  matter 
with  your  left  lung  ?  " 

I  replied,  "  I  don't  know.  Three  doctors  told  me,  more 
than  fourteen  years  ago,  that  it  was  all  gone." 


THE  HERB  DOCTOR. 


207 


"Well,"  he  said,  "you  stay  quietly  in  bed  till  I  come 
again  at  half-past  eleven." 

When  he  returned,  he  bade  me  get  up  and  dress,  and 
then  gave  me  a  cupful  of  something  very  hot  with  cayenne, 
at  the  same  time  telling  me  that  I  should  be  quite  strong 
enough  to  preach  by  twelve  o'clock. 

So  I  was.  I  preached  that  morning,  and  again  in  the 
afternoon ;  after  that  I  went  to  bed  till  six  o'clock,  when  I 
took  another  dose,  and  in  the  strength  of  it  preached  a  long, 
loud  sermon  to  a  crowded  congregation  ;  after  which  I 
attended  the  after-meeting,  and  was  there  till  twelve  o'clock 
at  night.  I  then  set  off  to  the  station,  accompanied  by  at 
least  two  hundred  people,  and  left  by  the  one  o'clock  train 
for  Birmingham,  to  the  house  of  my  new  friend  the  herbal 
doctor.  He  nursed  me  like  a  mother,  and  let  me  go  on  my 
way  home  to  Cornwall  the  next  day. 

I  never  heard  any  more  of  the  rector  of  the  parish,  or  of 
the  Bishop,  but  was  frequently  cheered  by  letters  saying  that 
the  work  thus  begun  was  going  on  week  after  week  in  the 
same  place.  Some  years  after,  when  I  was  passing,  I  stopped 
there  for  a  few  days,  and  gave  them  "  a  lift,"  as  they  called 
it ;  and  I  then  saw  with  half  a  glance  that  they  had  become 
practised  workers — that  both  clergymen  and  people  were 
fitted  to  missionize  the  whole  country  side. 

One's  great  object  in  this  mission  work  is  not  only  to 
save  souls,  but  to  encourage  believers  to  do  their  part ;  that 
so  the  effect  of  a  mission  may  be  continued  and  extended. 
God  has  a  twofold  blessing  for  us.  He  says  "  I  will  bless 
thee,  and  make  thee  a  blessing ; "  and  it  is  well  to  remember 
that  the  benefits  we  receive  are  not  so  much  to  be  kept  for 
self,  as  to  be  imparted  and  transmitted  to  others,  even  as 
they  were  transmitted  to  us. 
10 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 


HEN  I  returned  from  the  far-off  mission  in  Stafford- 
shire, whether  from  over-fatigue  or  other  causes,  I 
was  much  depressed  in  mind  as  well  as  body,  and 
quite  out  of  heart  with  the  Church  of  England. 
It  is  true  I  found  the  converted  people  in  Staffordshire  were 
not  so  leavened  with  Dissent  as  in  Cornwall,  and  that  there 
was  some  attachment  to  the  Church ;  but  still  I  could  see 
that  Churchmen  there,  as  elsewhere,  distrusted  spirituality, 
and  preferred  to  work  on  their  own  ecclesiastical  or  sacra- 
mental lines ;  they  chose  to  draw  water  to  quench  their 
thirst,  rather  than  to  ask,  and  receive  (directly  from  Christ) 
the  living  water. 

If  a  bishop  accidentally  invited  me,  or  if  a  clergyman 
cordially  did  so,  they  were  marked  exceptions.  I  felt  myself 
to  be  obnoxious  to  the  majority  of  my  clerical  brethren  who 
professed  to  represent  the  Church ;  but,  somehow,  I  was  con- 
vinced that,  as  a  converted  clergyman,  I  represented  the 
Church  of  England  more  truly  than  they,  and  that  the  prin- 
ciples of  the  Reformation  were  the  principles  I  was  working 
upon.    This  was  trial  from  outside,  which,  however  trying 


HEART  SEARCHING. 


209 


to  flesh  and  blood,  is  by  no  means  so  bad  as  misgiving  from 
witliin. 

I  was  discouraged  also  about  the  work  in  which  I  had 
been  engaged ;  for  there  was  evidently  an  imperfection  about 
it.  I  observed  that  some  people  over  whom  I  rejoiced  as 
converted,  went  back  to  their  former  worldliness,  which  per- 
plexed and  troubled  me  more  than  I  can  describe.  I  knew 
from  my  own  experience,  that  conversion  was  necessary  to 
salvation  and  a  new  life  ;  but  when  people  professed  to  be 
saved,  and  did  not  live  a  new  life,  I  was  sure  there  was 
something  wrong.  My  dear  friend,  Mr.  Aitken,  said,  "  My 
brother,  this  work  is  the  Lord's ;  you  must  go  to  Him  and 
ask  what  is  wrong.  Lie  on  your  face  before  Him,  till  He 
shows  you  His  will  about  the  matter  !  " 

This  I  did;  for,  shutting  myself  up  in  the  church,  I  cried 
to  the  Lord  till  I  felt  that  an  answer  would  come  in  due 
time. 

Soon  after,  I  was  led  to  preach  from  the  text,  "  Through 
this  Man  is  preached  unto  you  the  forgiveness  of  sins;  and  by 
Him  all  that  believe  are  justified  from  all  things  "  (Acts  xiii. 
38,  39).  This  opened  my  eyes  to  see  that  the  proclamation 
was  twofold — that  through  Christ  Jesus,  pardon  was  offered 
to  any  and  every  sinner  as  such,  and  moreover,  that  by  the 
same  Christ  Jesus,  every  believer — that  is,  every  one  who 
had  received  the  forgiveness  of  his  sins — was  justified  from 
all  things. 

Those  who  know  how  old  familiar  texts  flash  upon  the 
mind  with  new  meaning,  will  understand  my  surprise.  God 
was  speaking  to  me  in  answer  to  my  inquiry.  I  had  been 
preaching  forgiveness  and  salvation  through  the  blood- 
shedding  and  death  of  Christ ;  and  confining  myself  to  this, 
as  if  salvation  were  all.  I  now  saw  that  I  had  not  preached 
about  Justification  to  believers,  as  fully  as  I  had  dwelt  on 
the  subject  of  pardon  to  sinners  ;  indeed,  that  I  had  preached 


2IO 


FROM  DEA  TH  INTO  LIFE. 


to  believers  the  same  Gospel  which  I  preached  to  them 
before  they  were  converted ;  that  is,  that  Christ  died  for 
their  sins,  but  not  the  "yea  rather,  that  is  risen  again."  No 
wonder  they  did  not  stand,  if  their  standing-place  before  God 
their  Father  was  not  simply  and  plainly  put  before  them. 
Believers  having  been  brought  from  death  unto  life,  from 
the  cross  to  the  resurrection-side  of  Christ's  grave,  should  be 
led  to  the  Throne  of  Grace,  where  Christ  sits  at  the  right 
hand  of  God,  making  intercession  for  them.  Once  en- 
lightened on  the  subject,  it  was  easy  to  see  that  this  truth 
was  set  forth  all  through  the  Bible. 

For  instance,  when  the  prodigal  son  received  pardon, 
immediately  his  father  called  the  servants  and  said  unto 
them,  "  Bring  forth  the  best  robe  and  put  it  on  him,  and 
put  a  ring  on  his  hand  and  shoes  on  his  feet."  Here, 
besides  pardon,  is  standing — union — strength  ;  and  over 
and  beyond  these,  the  feast  of  rejoicing. 

When  the  children  of  Israel  were  brought  out  of  Egypt, 
it  was  not  that  they  should  escape  from  bondage  only,  but 
that  they  should  be  led,  and  even  carried,  by  God  through 
the  wilderness.  Moses  illustrated  this  in  a  simple  yet  com- 
prehensive figure,  when  he  wrote,  "  As  an  eagle  stirreth  up 
her  nest,  fluttereth  over  her  young,  spreadeth  abroad  her 
wings,  taketh  them,  beareth  them  on  her  wings  :  so  the  Lord 
alone  did  lead  him,  and  there  was  no  strange  god  with  him" 
(Deut.  xxxii.  ii,  12). 

The  thousands  who  perished  in  the  wilderness  were 
persons  of  whom  it  may  be  said  that  they  professed  to  come 
up  out  of  Egypt,  and  did  so  in  act ;  but  God,  who  looks 
upon  the  heart,  saw  that  they  were  still  lingering  in  that 
place ;  for  when  they  were  in  trouble,  they  said,  "  Would 
God  that  we  had  died  in  the  land  of  Egj'pt !  or  would  God 
we  had  died  in  this  wilderness !  .  .  .  Let  us  make  a 
captain,  and  let  us  return  into  Egypt "  (Num.  xiv.  2—4). 


THE  WHOLE  GOSPEL. 


211 


This  is  one  secret  of  the  "  going  back  "  which  I  have 
noticed.  People  came  out  as  converted,  whose  hearts  were 
still  entangled  in  the  things  of  this  world,  or  in  some  beset- 
ments  with  which  they  were  fettered.  Those  who  are  really 
converted  should  come  out,  as  Caleb  and  Joshua  did.  They 
left  Egypt  behind  them  altogether,  and  finally,  in  their  trials 
and  troubles  in  the  wilderness,  they  looked  for  deliverance, 
not  in  going  back,  but  in  going  forward,  assured  that  if  lions 
were  before,  there  were  dragons  behind. 

Another  lesson  which  we  may  learn  from  these  two,  is, 
that  they  compared  difficulties  and  giants,  not  with  them- 
selves, but  with  the  Lord.  It  was  true  that  they  were  not 
able  to  conquer  their  enemies  or  take  their  cities,  but,  as 
they  said,  "the  Lord  is  able  to  give  us  the  victory."  In  this 
I  saw  how  Joshua  trusted  God,  also  how  God  wrought  a 
great  deliverance. 

I  urged  the  people  to  consider  that  we  were  not  created 
and  redeemed  to  be  saved,  but  saved  to  glorify  God  in  our 
lives  j  but  I  grieve  to  say,  this  teaching  did  not  meet  with 
the  acceptance  I  hoped  for.  I  wondered  at  their  slowness  of 
heart  to  believe  in  the  "risen"  Christ,  and  was  sure  that  this 
was  reason  enough  for  their  instability  ;  and  I  felt  that  there 
would  be  nothing  else  while  they  continued  to  receive  only 
a  part  of  the  Gospel  instead  of  the  whole. 

One  thing  leads  to  another.  While  I  was  thus  making 
discoveries,  my  attention  was  drawn  to  a  hymn  which  spoke 
of  "Jordan's  stream,"  and  "death's  cold  flood,"  as  if  they 
were  the  same  thing.  Now,  I  had  always  regarded  Jordan 
as  death ;  but  the  question  in  my  mind  was — What  is  all 
that  fighting  and  conquering  in  the  land  of  Canaan,  if 
Canaan  represents  heaven  ?  I  observed,  moreover,  that  the 
Israelites  were  on  the  defensive  in  the  wilderness,  and  on 
the  aggressive  on  the  other  side  of  Jordan  ;  that  they  were 
led  by  the  cloud  on  the  one,  and  by  a  living  Person  on  the 


212 


FROM  DEATH  INTO  LIFE. 


other ;  that  they  were  daily  sustained  with  manna,  as  chil- 
dren, on  the  one  side,  and  ate  the  old  corn  of  the  land,  as 
men  of  Israel,  on  the  other,  besides  sowing  and  reaping  for 
themselves.  These  striking  marks  of  contrast  excited  much 
inquiry,  and  not  obtaining,  with  sufficient  definiteness,  the 
satisfaction  I  sought,  I  went  to  the  Lord  about  this,  as 
before.  I  confessed  my  shortcomings,  and  the  defective- 
ness of  my  teaching,  and  pleaded  earnestly,  "  Lord,  what 
wouldst  Thou  have  me  to  do  ?  What  I  know  not,  teach 
Thou  me  ! " 

Then  I  was  brought  into  the  deepest  distress  and  per- 
plexity of  soul,  to  think  that  after  my  experience  of  conver- 
sion, and  all  I  had  done  for  the  conversion  of  others,  I  was 
still  such  a  vile,  self-condemned  sinner.  I  even  began  to 
think  that  I  had  never  been  converted ;  it  appeared  to  me 
that  my  whole  life  was  nothing  but  intense  selfishness ;  that 
I  availed  myself  of  the  blood  of  Christ  for  my  salvation  and 
happiness,  and  led  others  to  do  the  same,  rejoicing  with 
them  in  thus  making  use  of  God  for  the  purpose  of  getting 
quit  of  hell  and  gaining  heaven.  It  was  a  clear  case  of 
making  God  serve  me,  instead  of  my  serving  Him.  Many 
other  things  came  to  my  mind,  by  which  I  knew  there  was 
an  immense  gap  between  my  experience  and  the  Word  of 
God.  I  can  see  it  all  now ;  but  at  the  time  it  was  very  dark 
and  grievous. 

When  I  had  been  under  conviction  before,  at  the  time 
of  my  conversion,  it  was,  as  it  were,  with  my  eyes  shut ;  but 
now  they  were  open  :  then  I  saw  my  sins,  and  the  penalty 
which  was  due  to  them ;  now  I  saw  my  unrighteousness, 
and  the  corruption  of  my  nature.  I  felt  as  if  I  were  two 
persons,  and  that  there  was  a  law  in  my  members  warring 
against  the  law  of  my  mind,  the  flesh  contending  against  the 
Spirit.  "  O  wretched  man  that  I  am  !  who  shall  deliver  me 
from  the  body  of  this  death  ?  "    For  a  whole  week  I  was  in 


A  NEW  EXPERIENCE. 


213 


great  distress  of  mind,  especially  during  the  last  three 
days. 

On  Sunday  morning,  as  I  was  going  to  the  early  Com- 
munion, my  soul  was  set  at  liberty.  I  felt  as  if  a  great  cloud 
was  lifted  up ;  the  light  shone  into  my  soul ;  and  I  had 
deliverance.  I  was  exceedingly  happy  in  the  knowledge 
that  the  risen  Christ  Himself  was  my  help — that  He,  who 
had  hidden  His  presence  in  a  pillar  of  cloud  and  fire,  now 
was  Himself  present  in  Person,  my  omnipotent  Friend  and 
Leader ! 

This  was  quite  a  new  experience,  and  one  I  had  not 
known  before.  I  thought  that  I  had  not  even  heard  or  read 
of  it,  and  therefore  began  to  suspect  whether  it  was  a  temp- 
tation. I  determined  to  be  wise,  and  not  commit  myself 
too  soon,  so  made  up  my  mind  that  I  would  not  refer  to 
it  in  the  pulpit.  But  at  the  close  of  the  service  a  stranger 
came  into  the  vestry  to  thank  me  for  my  sermon ;  and 
when  we  were  alone  he  put  the  question  to  me,  "  How  long 
have  you  known  Sanctification  ?  " 

I  replied,  "  Do  I  know  it  now  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  "  you  preached  it  experimentally  this 
morning ;  and  I  shall  be  very  much  surprised  if  you  have 
not  some  inquiries  on  the  subject  before  the  day  is  out." 

I  felt  reproved  before  this  stranger's  steady  gaze,  and 
confessed  that  I  had  received  the  blessing  that  very  morn- 
ing ;  but  thinking  that  it  might  be  a  temptation,  I  had 
determined  to  say  nothing  about  it. 

He  said,  "  That  was  a  temptation  from  the  devil,  sure 
enough,  to  hinder  you ;  for  the  Lord  spoke  on  this  subject 
through  your  sermon  as  clearly  as  ever  I  have  heard.  Do 
not  be  afraid,  but  go  on  and  tell  others." 

So  in  the  evening  I  preached  on  Sanctification,  and 
we  had  an  after-meeting  in  the  schoolroom.  Many 
believers   stayed    behind   to    ask   questions  upon  the 


214 


FROM  DEATH  INTO  LIFE. 


subject  of  my  sermon.  I  do  not  remember  how  I  replied  to 
them ;  but  imperfect  as  my  statements  must  have  been,  it 
nevertheless  led  others  to  desire  to  enter  into  the  experience 
of  this  same  blessing. 

Tlie  following  morning,  I  happened  to  take  up  a  tract 
by  John  Fletcher,  of  Madeley,  in  which  I  read,  that  at  a 
breakfast  party  on  the  occasion  of  a  wedding,  to  which  he 
was  invited,  just  in  the  middle  of  idle  and  frivolous  conver- 
sation which  was  going  on,  he  was  constrained  to  rise  up 
and  say,  "  I  have  three  times  had  an  experience  of  joy  and 
liberty,  which  I  believe  to  be  Sanctification,  and  it  has 
passed  away;  now  that  it  has  returned  again,  I  take  this 
opportunity  to  testify."  The  company  were  all  struck  with 
amazement ;  the  power  of  God  was  present ;  and  the  festive 
gathering  was  turned  into  a  meeting  for  prayer  and  praise. 
I  took  warning  from  this  tract  never  to  withhold  my  testi- 
mony on  this  subject. 

Soon  after  this,  I  was  holding  an  afternoon  Bible  class 
in  another  part  of  the  parish ;  we  were  going  through  St. 
Luke's  gospel,  and  had  come  to  the  fifth  chapter;  I  said 
with  reference  to  the  miraculous  draught  of  fishes,  that  the 
fish  had  been  swimming  about  in  their  nativ^e  element  in 
all  quietness  and  freedom,  till  they  came  in  contact  with  a 
net,  and  it  came  in  contact  with  them.  Observe,  I  said, 
three  things  :  i.  They  are  caught  in  the  net.  2.  They  are 
drawn  out  of  their  native  element.  3.  They  are  laid  in  the 
boat,  at  the  feet  of  Christ.  So  it  is,  where  people  are 
caught  in  the  Gospel  net — this  is  conviction ;  they  are  drawn 
out  of  the  state  in  which  they  were — this  is  conversion  ;  but 
they  are  not  yet  in  the  state  in  which  they  should  be,  this  is 
why  it  is  so  hard  to  hold  them  :  they  ought  to  be  drawn  to 
Christ  Himself,  for  this  is  the  ultimate  object  of  catching 
souls ;  the  one  thing  needful  is  to  be  brought  to  the  feet  of 
Christ. 


SANCTIFICA  TION. 


215 


I  intentionally  abstained  from  using  the  word 
"  Sanctification,"  though  I  was  endeavouring  to  typify  the 
experience  of  it,  and  to  contrast  it  with  conversion.  As  I 
went  on  speaking,  a  wonian  in  the  small  assembly  put  up 
her  hands  and  began  to  shout  and  praise  God,  "  That  is 
Sanctification  !  "  she  cried ;  "  I  have  it !  I  know  it !  Praise 
the  Lord  !  "  There  was  a  great  stir  in  the  class ;  some  cried, 
and  some  asked  questions.  One  woman,  who  was  more 
advanced  in  general  knowledge  and  experience  than  most 
of  the  others,  declared,  that  she  did  not  believe  in  Sanctifi- 
cation, for  she  had  known  so  many  who  professed  to  have 
it,  and  had  lost  it.  "  Lost  what  ?  "  I  said,  "  you  cannot  lose 
an  experience  ;  the  joy  of  it  may  depart,  and  certainly  does 
where  people  rest  on  their  feelings  instead  of  the  fact,  on 
the  effect,  instead  of  the  cause."  She  confused  the  sancti- 
fication of  the  believer,  with  the  effect  it  produced  on  him. 
The  Spirit  which  works  sanctification  in  our  souls,  can  keep 
us  in  it,  if  we  continue  to  look  to  Him,  instead  of  looking 
at  His  work.  I  said  to  her,  what  I  have  said  ever  since  to 
all  who  are  inclined  to  argue  on  the  subject :  Believers  too 
often  dispute  about  Sanctification,  in  the  same  manner  as 
the  unconverted  do  on  the  subject  of  Justification.  It  is 
not  worth  while  for  those  who  know,  to  contend  with  those 
who  only  think.  I  told  her  to  go  home  and  pray  about  it, 
and  ask  the  Lord  if  He  had  anything  more  to  give,  to  let 
her  have  it. 

She  was  sullen,  and  hard  to  persuade ;  but  after  a  little 
more  conversation  and  prayer,  she  consented  to  lay  aside 
her  prejudice  and  do  as  I  had  told  her.  She  did  so,  and 
came  again  the  next  morning  to  see  me.  Fortunately,  I 
was  not  in  my  house,  but  shut  up,  as  my  custom  was,  in  the 
church  for  meditation  and  prayer.  She  followed  me  thither, 
but  being  engaged  with  my  Master,  I  answered  no  knocks 
or  taps,  whether  at  the  doors  or  windows  j  even  on  this 


2l6 


FROM  DEA  TH  INTO  LIFE. 


occasion  I  did  not  respond,  although  I  heard  some  one  walk 
ing  round  and  round  the  church,  and  knocking  impatiently 

for  admittance.  When  I  came  out,  I  heard  that  Hannah  

had  called,  and  wished  very  much  to  see  me;  for  she 
wanted  (to  use  her  own  expression)  "  to  hug  the  dear  head 
of  him,  if  she  could  catch  him."  She  was  happy  beyond 
expression,  for  she  had  had  a  dream ;  and  what  is  more, 
she  said  that  she  had  entered  into  the  "  second  blessing." 

In  her  dream  she  saw  a  well  of  water  as  clear  as  crj'stal ; 
it  was  beautiful,  and  the  clean  pebbles  at  the  bottom  quite 
glistened  with  brightness,  so  that  she  could  count  them. 
"There,  there,"  she  said,  "What  does  any  one  want  clearer 
and  cleaner  than  that  ?  "  As  she  looked  into  this  clear  well, 
my  voice  said  to  her,  "Throw  a  pebble  into  it,"  when  she  did 
so ;  in  an  instant  the  water  became  thick  and  dirty.  "  Ah," 
said  my  voice  again,  "  The  water  of  grace  is  always  clear  as 
crystal,  but  the  well  in  which  it  is— that  is  your  heart — is 
most  unclean.  The  Lord  can  give  you  a  clean  heart,  and 
renew  a  right  spirit  within  you  "  (Ps.  li.  lo).  She  woke  up 
from  her  sleep,  and  immediately  began  to  pray,  asking  the 
Lord  for  a  clean  heart,  until  she  obtained  it. 

Some  may  say,  "  But  what  did  she  obtain  ? "  This 
question  is  seldom  if  ever  asked  by  persons  who  know  the 
experience  of  this  blessing ;  but  to  those  who  do  not,  it  is 
very  difficult  to  convey  an  idea  of  what  it  is  by  definitions. 
Let  it  be  enough  to  understand  that  there  is  something 
desirable  to  be  had,  which  may  be  obtained  by  doing  as 
this  woman  did.  "  As  in  water  face  answereth  to  face,  so 
the  heart  of  man  to  man"  (Prov.  xxvii.  19).  Those  who 
know  it,  understand  one  another  and  rejoice  together. 
There  is  no  such  mutual  sympathy  and  joy  as  that  which 
brethren  have  who  are  partakers  of  this  higher  blessing. 

After  this,  Hannah  became  a  restful,  peaceful  soul ;  and 
many  others,  with  her,  found  that  quiet  confidence  which 


A  NEW  ERA. 


217 


can  only  belong  to  those  who  can  and  do  trust  a  risen  and 
living  Christ. 

It  was  quite  a  new  era  in  the  work,  and  called  out  fresh 
energies ;  but  like  every  new  thing,  it  absorbed  too  much 
attention,  to  the  exclusion  of  the  simple  Gospel  for  the 
unsaved.  "  Christ  died  for  our  sins,"  is  only  part  of  the 
Gospel,  though  a  very  important  part.  "  Christ  rose  again 
the  third  day  according  to  the  Scriptures"  (i  Cor.  xv.  3,  4), 
is  also  a  part,  which  should  not  be  omitted  in  its  due  time 
and  place.  These  two  important  truths,  I  am  sure,  are 
needful  for  scriptural  work,  and  they  should  both  be 
systematically  preached. 


CHAPTER  XXV. 


1854. 

»JOT]T  was  indeed  a  great  mistake  to  supersede  the 
^  preaching  of  the  truth  as  it  is  in  Jesus  for  the 
forgiveness  of  sins,  with  the  higher  subject  of  the 
risen  Christ.  In  the  freshness  of  this  new-found 
truth,  and  thinking  that  the  want  of  it  was  the  secret  of  our 
depression,  I  was  urged  on  to  press  it  upon  the  people,  and 
took  in  connection  with  it  the  hfe  and  walk  of  the  believer. 
I  exhorted  my  hearers  to  pray  with  me,  that  God  would 
cleanse  our  hearts,  and  even  our  very  thoughts,  "  by  the 
inspiration  of  His  Holy  Spirit,  that  we  might  perfectly  love 
Him,  and  worthily  magnify  His  name."  This  suited  some 
of  the  earnest  and  devoted  people;  but  the  majority  did  not 
think  Sanctification  essential  to  salvation — salvation  was  all 
they  wanted  and  all  they  cared  for ;  nothing  else,  they  said, 
was  necessary. 

It  was  a  time  of  bright  light  and  dull  darkness.  I  was 
very  happy — also  disappointed.  It  was  as  if  the  influence 
God  had  given  me  in  the  parish,  and  on  the  people  as  a 
whole,  was  being  taken  away,  and  that  I  was  not  to  be  the 
leader  any  more.  I  did  not  see  this  at  the  time,  nor  indeed 
did  I  wish  to  do  so,  for  I  thought  I  had  found  in  this 


CHRIST'S  SECOND  COMIXG.  219 


place  my  life-work  and  my  sphere  of  labour.  I  had  even 
selected  a  piece  of  ground  in  the  churchyard  for  the  final 
resting-place  of  the  weary  body. 

One  day  a  Christian  friend  came  on  a  visit,  and  we  had 
much  sympathy  and  communion  together,  and  discussed 
all  these  subjects.  He  begged  me  to  be  patient  with  the 
people,  as  God  had  been  with  rae,  and  exhorted  me  not  to 
scold  or  discourage  them,  but  rather  to  lead  them  out  of 
the  low  standard  of  truth  in  which  they  lived  to  a  higher 
and  deeper  one.  His  visit  was  a  great  comfort  at  this 
juncture,  and  encouraged  me  very  much ;  but  before  leav- 
ing he  plunged  me  into  another  gulf  of  difficulty.  At  the 
railway  station,  as  he  was  going  away,  he  said  to  me, 
"  Brother,  do  you  believe  the  Lord  is  coming  again  ?  " 

"  Certainly,"  I  replied. 

"  What  will  He  come  for,  do  you  think  ?  " 

"  Why,"  I  said,  "  to  judge  the  quick  and  the  dead,  of 
course."  Seeing  he  was  not  satisfied,  I  added,  "  What  else 
would  you  have  me  say  ?  " 

He  replied  quietly,  "  I  thought  you  would  say  that ;  but 
there  is  not  time  to  speak  about  it  now.  Good-bye  !  good- 
bye ! "  And  so  saying,  he  stepped  into  the  train,  and  was 
soon  out  of  sight.  I  was  left  behind,  wondering  what  he 
could  mean. 

One  morning  the  postman  brought  me  a  packet  of 
tracts  on  the  Second  Coming ;  but  somehow  I  did  not 
connect  this  with  my  friend's  question.  I  merely  thought 
that  they  were  some  "  Plymouth"  effusions,  and  put  them 
aside.  Then  a  stranger  came  to  church,  and,  in  conversa- 
tion after  the  service,  asked  me  if  I  would  read  a  little 
book,  and  give  him  my  opinion  of  it.  It  was  called  "  Jesus 
Comes  Quickly."  But  even  this  did  not  enlighten  me. 
I  told  him  that  I  thought  the  writer  considered  the  end  of 
the  world  very  near,  but  that  I  did  not  care  to  dwell  on 


220 


FROM  DEATH  INTO  LIFE. 


such  gloomy  subjects  while  we  had  the  brightness  of  a 
present  Saviour  before  us.  Thus  I  went  on  a  little  longer, 
till  one  morning  I  awoke  with  a  strong  impression  on  my 
mind  that  I  ought  to  read  those  tracts  which  had  been 
sent  me.  I  therefore  rose  earlier  than  usual,  and  taking  up 
the  packet,  went  into  the  church  to  consider  them.  The 
first  one  I  read  was  on  Prophecies  concerning  the  Lord 
Jesus,  in  which  the  writer  modestly  stated  that  it  was  rea- 
sonable to  suppose  that  those  predictions  which  had  not 
yet  been  accomplished  would  certainly  be  so ;  and  that,  as 
literally  and  distinctly  as  those  which  had  been  fulfilled. 
If  the  prophecies  concerning  the  Lord's  humiliation  were 
fully  accomplished — and  they  did  literally  pierce  His  hands 
and  feet,  stood  staring  and  looking  at  Him,  parted  His 
garments  among  them,  and  cast  lots  for  His  vesture ;  if  He 
actually  had  His  death  with  the  wicked  and  His  grave  with 
the  rich — (what  impenetrable  enigmas  these  must  have 
been  in  the  old  time !  The  very  angels  desired  to  look 
into  these  things,  and  could  not  see  them) — if,  then,  these 
were  so  absolutely  fulfilled,  we  may  expect  other  distinct 
prophecies  to  be  so,  at  least  as  fully  and  clearly.  He  who 
came  in  "weakness"  shall  come  in  "power;"  He  who  came 
"  lowly,  and  riding  upon  an  ass,"  shall  come  "in  the  clouds 
of  heaven ; "  and  "  His  feet  shall  stand  upon  the  Mount  of 
Olives."  These  are  the  words  of  Scripture. 

The  tracts  spoke  of  the  Lord's  coming  for  His  saints, 
and  then  with  them,  to  deliver  His  people  the  Jews,  and 
eventually  to  convert  the  Gentiles. 

I.  He  said  in  John  xiv.,  "I  go  to  prepare  a  place  for  you," 
and  "  I  will  come  again  and  receive  you  unto  Myself."  This 
departure  of  the  Lord  referred,  not  to  His  death,  but  to  His 
ascension  into  heaven,  where  He  is  now  engaged  making 
intercession,  and  whence  He  will  come  to  change  our  vile 
bodies,  and  take  us  to  Himself,  that  we  may  be  ever  with 


PROPHETIC  INVESTIGATION.  221 

the  Lord.  I  was  as  one  awaking  from  a  dream  when  my 
eyes  were  open  to  see  these  things.  I  had  had  an  idea  that 
the  Jews  were  all  done  with,  and  that  there  was  nothing 
more  to  come  but  the  last  Judgment.  But  now  I  saw  that 
the  Jews  were  to  return  to  their  own  land ;  that  Jerusalem 
was  to  be  rebuilt,  and  even  to  be  besieged  by  a  great  army  ! 
(I  had  thought  that  this  was  all  over  long  ago) ;  that  in  the 
midst  of  the  terrible  siege  the  Lord  would  come,  and  by  His 
appearing  convert  the  people,  a  whole  nation  in  a  day,  and 
deliver  them  by  the  destruction  of  their  enemies;  that 
there  was  to  be  a  restitution  of  all  things,  and  a  Millennial 
reign  (Zech.  xiv.  ;  Rev.  xx.). 

Altogether  I  had  come  into  a  new  region  of  thought,  and 
wondered  where  I  had  been  all  my  life,  that  I  had  never 
seen  these  things.  How  could  I  have  misunderstood  or 
overlooked  such  clear  and  plain  Scripture  words  ?  It  was 
surprising.  I  gave  up  all  engagements  that  day,  and 
applied  myself  to  investigating  texts,  and  read  over  again 
the  tracts  which  had  been  sent  me;  they  were  well 
selected,  and  referred  all  statements  to  the  Bible  itself  for 
verification. 

Before  I  saw  the  Christian  hope,  I  had,  instead  of  it, 
some  idea  about  dying  and  going  to  heaven,  "  where  the 
wicked  cease  from  troubhng,  and  the  weary  are  at  rest." 
As  to  my  body,  I  expected  that  it  would  rise  at  the  last  day 
— that  great  day  of  doom,  when  the  trumpet  would  sound, 
and  there  would  be  a  simultaneous  resurrection  of  all,  good 
and  bad.  I  expected  that,  as  a  saved  one,  I  should  then 
enter  into  a  higher  glory  than  that  of  the  intermediate  state. 
I  had  no  idea  of  expecting  Christ  as  a  Bridegroom,  or  of  look- 
ing forward  with  hope  and  joyful  anticipation  to  His  coming, 
as  an  event  which  might  be  expected  at  any  moment.  I 
thought  the  coming  of  the  Lord,  the  Judgment,  and  "  the 
end  of  things  created,"  were  one  and  the  same  thing;  and  as 


222 


FROM  DEATH  INTO  LIFE. 


I  was  sure  they  were  not  likely  to  happen  in  my  time,  I  did 
not  bestow  much  consideration  on  them.  Such  a  "coming" 
was  not  an  object  of  hope,  but  of  dread  and  wonder,  accord- 
ing to  the  common  tradition  which  I  had  received.  Like  too 
many  others,  I  confused  together  the  judgment  of  believers 
for  their  works  (2  Cor.  v.  10),  the  judgment  of  the  quick  or 
living  nations  (Matt.  xxv.  31 — 46),  and  the  judgment  of  the 
wicked  dead  at  the  solemn  "  great  white  throne "  (Rev. 
XX.  12).  I  had  not  the  remotest  idea  that  these  three  judg- 
ments referred  to  three  classes  of  persons,  and  were  distinctly 
separate  from  one  another.  I  was  profoundly  in  the  dark 
about  the  believer's  hope,  and  therefore  confused  in  my  igno- 
rance— the  Parousia,  the  Apocalypse,  and  the  Epiphaneia. 
In  short,  the  coming  of  the  Lord  at  any  time,  to  take  up  His 
saints,  and  to  reward  them  according  to  their  works,  was  not 
the  object  of  my  hope.  I  was  looking  rather  for  a  Judge  than 
a  Bridegroom. 

I  felt  now  that  I  had  possession  of  a  secret  which  very 
few  would  believe,  and  I  could  not  help  seeing  the  startled 
or  suspicious  look  with  which  people  regarded  me,  when  I 
ventured  to  utter  it.  I  saw  and  felt  another  thing,  that  when- 
ever I  referred  to  prophetic  subjects  in  preaching,  I  lost  hold 
of  the  people,  and  their  attention  was  gone.  I  was  perplexed; 
for  I  wondered  that  God  did  not  help  me  in  this,  as  He  did 
in  the  Gospel  truth  which  I  proclaimed.  I  could  not  doubt 
these  truths ;  for  the  more  I  read  the  Word  of  God,  and  par- 
ticularly the  prophetic  parts,  the  more  firmly  convinced  I 
was  about  them.  For  some  passages  could  have  no  other 
signification  than  that  which  they  literally  declared.  The 
Christian  hope,  that  Christ  was  coming,  in  person,  to  take  us 
to  Himself  to  live  with  Him  for  ever,  was  a  most  cheering 
prospect,  and  brought  the  Saviour  Himself  more  vividly 
before  the  mind. 

To  think  that  soon  (and  no  one  knows  how  soon)  I  shall 


"NOW  ABIDETH  THESE  THREE."  223 


see  Him,  and  be  like  Him,  stirred  me  up  to  consider  what 
manner  of  person  I  ought  to  be,  who  had  such  a  hope  as 
this.  Instead  of  death  and  hell,  heaven  and  judgment,  it 
was  Christ  in  His  coming  glory  which  filled  my  mind.  I 
began  to  lose  faith  and  interest  in  hymns  which  referred  to 
Christ  as  the  Judge  of  all ;  for,  as  a  Christian,  I  was  looking 
for  a  Bridegroom,  and  not  a  Judge.  Nor  could  I  follow  the 
prayers  of  people  who  spoke  of  a  judgment  to  come  ;  for  I 
believed  that  Christ  had  been  judged  and  punished  for  us, 
that  we  might  not  come  into  the  Judgment  (John  v.  24). 

Perhaps  the  time  was  not  then  come  for  the  people  to 
receive  this  truth.  The  midnight  cry,  "  Behold  the  Bride- 
groom Cometh  1"  was  not  yet  gone  forth  to  them,  and  there- 
fore they  slumbered  on  in  their  indifference  to  this  teaching. 
I  felt  I  was  separated  from  the  people,  and  that  they  were 
drifting  away  from  me.  I  had  a  truth  which  they  would  not 
receive.  There  was  unrest,  and  the  work  did  not  go  on 
smoothly  or  happily  as  before. 

A  vessel  which  is  constructed  to  stand  upon  three  feet 
cannot  stand  upon  one,  or  even  upon  two,  without  being 
propped  up.  When  propped  and  stayed  up,  it  will  stand,  to 
be  sure,  in  some  way ;  but  there  is  effort  and  agency  super- 
added, which  would  be  needless  if  the  vessel  were  allowed 
to  rest  by  itself,  upon  its  own  feet.  So  it  is  with  the  Chris- 
tian. He  is  intended  to  rest  in  Christ,  in  a  threefold  way  : 
as  the  object  of  Faith,  and  Love,  and  Hope.  No  man  can 
really  and  truly  rest  upon  one,  or  even  two,  of  these  without 
taking  from  God's  word,  or  adding  to  it.  In  ordinary  life  he 
cannot  be  happy  if  he  does  not  trust,  and  love,  and  hope. 
Imagine  a  man  who  can  trust  no  one ;  how  harassed  and  dis- 
tressed he  is  with  suspicions  !  Or  suppose  he  is  trustful ;  yet 
if  he  does  not  love  anybody  or  anything,  his  present  life  is 
marred  by  an  insipid  and  dull  selfishness.    Or  take  one  who 


224 


FROM  DEATH  INTO  LIFE. 


is  trustful  even  to  credulity ;  but  suppose  he  has  no  hope,  his 
future  is  black,  and  dark  with  forebodings,  in  trying  to  look 
into  the  terrible  clouds  of  darkness  which  stand  before  him. 

So  much  for  man  in  his  finite  life.  But  when  we  remem- 
ber that  he  is  created  for  infinity  and  eternity,  and  has  life 
which  is  to  endure  for  ever,  how  much  more  needful  is  it  for 
him  to  have  these  three  Christian  graces  combined — faith, 
charity,  and  hope !  By  this  I  mean,  Christ  the  object  of  Faith, 
for  salvation ;  Christ  Himself  the  object  of  Love,  for  devotion 
and  service  ;  and  Christ  in  His  coming  glory,  the  object  of 
Hope,  for  separation  from  the  world. 

A  man  must  have  the  first,  or  he  is  not  saved  at  all ;  for 
there  is  no  Saviour  and  no  salvation  but  in  Christ,  whether 
it  be  from  the  penalty,  or  from  the  power  of  sin.  "  This  is  a 
faithful  saying,  and  worthy  of  all  acceptation,  that  Christ 
Jesus  came  into  the  world,"  and  is  here  still,  "to  save 
sinners"  (i  Tim.  L  15).  He  is  the  only  one  who  can,  and 
does  save ;  and,  moreover,  this  honour  He  never  gives  to 
another. 

Next,  to  a  person  who  has  Christ's  work  before  him, 
surely  nothing  less  than  a  personal  Christ  can  be  a  suffi- 
cient incentive  for  the  devotion  of  his  life  and  energies. 

Then  again,  if  Christ  Is  the  object  of  faith  and  love,  a 
believer  cannot  be  satisfied  with  anything  less  for  the  object 
of  hope ;  and  therefore  Christ,  in  His  coming  glory,  is  set 
before  him  for  this  purpose. 

I  can  see  all  this  plainly  enough  now,  but  there  was  a 
time  when  I  could  not  do  so. 


CHAPTER  XX\1. 


^ HEN  I  was  on  the  eve  of  leaving  Perranzabuloe, 
and  before  I  knew  that  I  was  to  go,  I  felt  there 
I   was  a  gulf  between  the  people  and  myself  AMiat- 
ever  else  they  held,  they  were  quite  ignorant 
of  ecclesiastical  antiquities,  Church  history,  and  Catholic 
truth  ;  what  is  more,  they  were  unwilling  to  learn  about 
such  matters. 

Now  I  began  to  feel  that  another  gulf  was  opening 
between  my  present  people  and  myself  It  was  not  as  before, 
about  ecclesiastical  things ;  but  on  another  score  altogether. 
I  wanted  them  to  believe  in  a  linng  Saviour  :  they  were 
trying  to  content  themselves  with  salvation  instead.  I 
wanted  them  to  trust  the  Giver  :  they  preferred  to  rejoice 
in  the  gift.  I  longed  to  lead  them  on  to  trust  Christ  as  the 
object  of  faith,  and  from  this  to  go  on  to  devote  themselves 
to  His  ser\-ice,  for  very  love  of  Him — to  be  loosed  from  the 
present  world,  by  the  hope  of  the  Lord's  coming.  I  could 
not  get  the  people  to  receive  this  teaching,  though  it  was 
God's  truth,  and  could  be  verified  by  the  Word. 

I  confess  that  this  threefold  truth  was  not  so  satisfybg 


226 


FROM  DEATH  INTO  LIFE. 


to  my  own  soul  as  I  expected  it  would  be.  I  remembered 
that  I  had  not  learned  it  from  men  or  books,  but  experi- 
mentally, by  God's  teaching,  in  answer  to  prayer.  I  could 
not  imagine  what  was  wanting,  and  did  not  discover,  for 
several  years  after,  that  the  mere  knowledge  of  a  truth  by 
itself,  even  though  it  is  about  Christ,  cannot  deliver.  It  is 
not  the  truth  of  Christ  that  delivers,  but  the  Christ  of  the 
truth.  In  itself,  it  is  but  an  instrument  in  the  hand  of  the 
Spirit ;  and  our  expectation  should  be  not  from  it,  but  from 
the  Divine  Person,  whose  it  is. 

I  have  found  out  that  the  power  is  Christ  Himself ;  that 
where  He  is  really  the  object  of  faith,  He  keeps  the  believer 
in  peace ;  and  that  if  there  is  no  peace,  it  is  only  because 
there  is  a  deficiency  of  trust :  that  He,  as  the  object  of 
love,  constrains  us  to  work  for  His  Father's  glory;  and  that 
He,  as  the  object  of  hope,  can  and  does  separate  us  from 
the  world  and  its  entanglements,  by  drawing  our  affections 
to  things  above  and  beyond  the  present.  Not  having  dis- 
covered this  simple  yet  important  truth,  I  was  restless  ;  and 
from  God's  Word  came  down  to  read  the  words  and 
thoughts  of  men.  I  fell  in  with  the  "Life  of  Madame 
Guyon."  Here  I  found  much  sympathy,  but  somehow  not 
that  peace  I  was  looking  for.  Then  I  read  the  writings  of 
the  Port  Royal  school,  the  Jansenists,  Butler's  "Lives  of 
the  Saints,"  and  other  such  books.  These  diverted  my 
mind,  employed  and  interested  it ;  but  I  cannot  say  they 
satisfied  me.  I  was  craving  for  something  which  I  had  not 
found  yet,  and  had  to  wait  three  years  or  more  before  I 
did  so. 

About  this  time  I  was  invited  to  go  to  a  parish  in 
Plymouth,  to  a  church  where  sacramental  teaching  was  the 
rule.  The  incumbent  was  evidently  as  much  dissatisfied 
with  the  state  of  his  congregation  as  I  was  with  mine.  He 
wanted  something  new,  and  I  thought  that  I  did  likewise. 


INVITED  TO  PLYMOUTH. 


227 


Accordingly  I  went  and  preached  in  his  pulpit,  and  the 
word  spoken  produced  a  marked  sensation.  My  sermon 
brought  to  the  vicar's  mind  many  truths  he  had  heard  and 
loved  in  early  days,  and  for  this  reason  he  urged  me  to  stay 
and  preach  again.  Then,  to  my  surprise,  he  invited  me  to 
leave  Cornwall  and  come  to  Plymouth,  in  order  to  take  a 
district  in  his  parish,  that  I  might  help  him  occasionally  in 
his  church.  This  was  altogether  such  an  unsought-for  thing, 
and  so  unexpected,  that  I  took  time  to  consider.  The  next 
day  I  told  him  that  I  could  not  entertain  his  proposition, 
and  that  for  three  reasons  : — 

1.  I  said,  "I  am  sure  that  the  Bishop  would  not 
consent." 

2.  "  I  have  a  debt  laid  on  me  by  my  patron  for  nearly 
;^3,ooo,  which  I  spent  in  building  the  church  for  him." 

3.  "  I  am  responsible  for  a  debt  of  ^300  as  security." 
He  still  urged  it,  and  said  he  would  go  and  see  the 

Bishop,  and  speak  with  him  on  the  subject.  In  his  zeal  he 
set  off  that  very  morning.  The  Bishop  at  first  said  flatly, 
No ;"  and  then,  upon  further  inquiry,  recalled  the  word, 
and  said,  "  You  may  try  it  if  you  will."  He  returned  in  the 
evening  with  this  information,  which  surprised  me  greatly. 
But  what  made  me  wonder  still  more,  was  the  receipt  of  two 
letters  the  next  morning  by  the  same  post — one  from  London 
and  the  other  from  Paris,  releasing  me  from  the  responsi- 
bility of  the  two  debts  ;  and  this  without  any  request  on  my 
part.  The  three  difficulties,  which  were  like  mountains 
before  me  only  three  days  before,  were  now  removed.  I 
did  not  know  what  to  say,  and  therefore  determined,  in  all 
haste,  to  go  home  and  consider  the  step. 

When  I  had  related  these  astonishing  circumstances  to 
my  dear  wife,  we  agreed  to  go  together  to  consult  with  Mr. 
Aitken.  On  arriving  I  said  to  him,  "  You  must  please  to  sit 
still  and  hear  all  before  you  speak."    Then  I  told  him  of 


228 


FROM  DEATH  INTO  LIFE. 


the  invitation  to  go  to  Plymouth,  the  result  of  the  preaching, 
the  unexpected  proposal  to  remove  hither,  the  Bishop's 
answer,  and  the  remission  of  the  ;^3,3oo.  "  Now,"  I  con- 
tinued, "  what  do  you  say  ?  " 

"  You  must  go,  my  brother,"  he  replied  ;  "  for  you  will 
never  make  Catholics  of  the  Cornish  people  :  the  Methodist 
mind  is  far  too  deeply  rooted  in  them." 

Our  friend's  decision  was  firm ;  and  so  there  remained 
nothing  for  us  to  do  but  to  follow  it.  The  novelty  of  the 
proposition,  and  the  surprising  circumstances  connected 
with  it  were  exciting,  and  took  away  our  thoughts  for  the 
time  from  the  place  which  was  to  be  left  When  the 
decision  was  given  and  accepted,  then  Baldhu  seemed  to 
lift  up  its  voice,  and  urge  its  claims.  Certainly  it  was  a 
strong  tie  which  bound  us  to  this  place ;  but  nevertheless, 
on  our  return  home,  I  wrote  to  the  Bishop,  and  proposed 
to  resign  my  present  incumbency,  in  order  that  I  might 
take  a  district  in  Plymouth.  He  replied  in  due  course,  that 
he  would  accept  my  resignation.  After  I  was  thus  pledged, 
my  wife's  mind  veered  from  her  consent  to  go ;  and  Mr. 
Aitken  changed  his  tone  also,  and  said  that  the  text  had 
come  to  him,  "  Cast  thyself  down,"  and  that  I  was  tempt- 
ing God.  Yet  all  the  steps  I  had  taken  had  been  in 
prayer,  and  had  been  even  taken  reluctantly,  for  I  was  much 
attached  to  Baldhu. 

For  nearly  three  months  I  was  torn  with  distractions ; 
sometimes  hope  lifted  up  the  mist  from  the  horizon,  and 
then  let  it  down  again.  I  did  not  know  what  to  do ;  the 
work  at  home  had  come  to  a  stand ;  but  there  was  one 
thing,  my  successor  was  not  yet  appointed,  nor  had  I  signed 
my  resignation ;  therefore  every  now  and  then  the  thought 
came  over  me,  that  I  would  stay.  Then  a  letter  came 
from  Plymouth,  urging  me  to  come  away  at  once,  "for 
the  iron  was  hot  for  striking."    Sometimes  people  came 


LEAVING  BALDHU. 


229 


in  and  said,  "You  had  better  go;"  then  others  would 
come  and  say,  "  You  will  do  no  good  if  you  do  go." 
It  was  desolating,  as  well  as  distracting  beyond  descrip- 
tion. 

I  had  a  family  of  six  children  and  three  sen  ants ;  it 
was  a  great  expense  to  move  there ;  and  yet,  if  God  was 
calling,  it  was  quite  as  eas}^  for  Him  to  mo%-e  eleven  people 
as  one ;  and  I  had  ten  claims  upon  Him.  At  last,  suspense 
was  over;  for  my  successor  was  appointed,  and  the  day 
fixed  for  our  going.  I  signed  my  resignation,  having  to  pay 
four  pounds  ten  shillings  for  it ;  then,  suspense  was  changed 
into  unmitigated  sorrow. 

I  had  designed  and  built  that  church  and  house, 
and  had  seen  them  rise ;  had  made  the  garden,  and  had 
had  many  happy  and  wonderful  days  in  this  place.  I 
found  it  had  taken  a  deep  root  in  my  heart,  and  therefore  it 
was  like  tearing  one  up  altogether  to  go  away.  But  it  was 
done  now,  and  the  friends  who  had  advised  me  not  to 
resign,  seemed  to  have  their  triumph;  and  those  who 
advised  to  go,  were  discouraged  and  grieved  at  my  sorrow- 
ful state.  My  dear  wife  cheered  up  when  she  saw  me  down, 
and  rose  to  the  occasion;  she  began  to  pack  up  as  if 
delighted  at  going,  and  went  about  everything  most  cheer- 
fully. 

I  told  the  people  that  I  could  not  bear  a  leave-taking, 
but  there  would  be  a  ser\ice  in  the  church,  and  Holy 
Communion,  at  seven  o'clock  on  the  morning  we  were  to 
leave.  Many  came,  but  the  majority  could  not  sum  up  the 
courage  to  do  so.  I  put  my  resignation  on  the  offertory 
plate,  and  gave  it  to  God  with  many  tears.  A  kind  neigh- 
bour came  to  officiate  for  me,  so  that  I  did  not  take  any 
part  in  the  service;  being  exceedingly  dejected  and  over- 
whelmed with  sorrow.  It  was  chiefly  for  fear,  lest  I  was 
doing  that  which  God  would  not  have  me  do,  and  taking 


230  FROM  DEATH  INTO  LIFE. 

my  family  out  from  a  comfortable  home,  I  knew  not 
whither,  or  to  what  discomforts. 

One  thing  I  certainly  saw  plainly  enough,  that  my  affec- 
tions were  too  deeply  rooted  in  earthly  things.  I  had  no 
idea  till  then,  that  that  place  of  my  own  creation  had  taken 
such  a  hold  upon  me.  It  was  well  to  be  loose  from  that, 
and  free  for  my  Master's  service. 

After  breakfast  we  left  the  old  place;  many  people 
stood  weeping  by  the  roadsides  ;  some  ventured  to  speak, 
and  others  only  thrust  their  hands  into  the  carriage  windows 
for  a  hearty  grasp,  without  saying  a  word.  It  was  indeed  a 
sorrowful  day,  the  remembrance  of  which  even  now  makes 
my  heart  sink,  though  it  is  more  than  twenty-five  years 
since. 

In  the  evening  we  arrived  at  the  house  of  some  friends, 
who  had  kindy  invited  us  to  break  our  journey,  and  remain 
the  night  with  them  ;  and  in  the  morning  we  proceeded  on 
our  way  to  Plymouth.  When  we  reached  the  house,  we 
found  our  furniture  unpacked,  and  distributed  in  the 
various  rooms,  and  the  table  spread  ready  for  us  to  take 
some  refreshment.  The  word  "  Welcome  "  was  done  in 
flowers  over  the  door,  besides  many  other  demonstrations 
of  kindness ;  but  I  am  afraid  we  were  all  too  sorrowful  at 
the  time  to  show  our  appreciation  of,  or  to  enjoy  them. 

We  never  settled  in  that  house,  and  did  not  care  to 
unpack  anything  more  than  necessary,  or  hang  up  the  pic- 
tures or  texts. 

My  work  did  not  prosper  here,  for  I  found  I  was  un- 
equally yoked  with  strangers,  and  accordingly  felt  dry  and 
wretched. 

I  sent  my  resignation  of  Baldhu  to  Bishop  Phillpotts, 
and  with  it  my  nomination  and  other  necessary  papers, 
saying  that  I  would  wait  on  his  lordship  for  institution  on  a 
certain  day. 


REFUSAL  TO  INSTITUTE.  231 

At  the  appointed  time  I  went  to  him,  when  to  my  great 
surprise,  he  very  calmly  said  he  could  not  appoint  me  to 
that  district.  I  could  not  understand  this^  for  as  I  told 
him,  I  had  only  resigned  conditionally,  and  reminded  him 
that  I  had  asked  his  permission  to  resign,  for  the  purpose  of 
taking  this  district. 

"  How  can  I  conscientiously  appoint  or  license  you  to 
anything  in  my  diocese  ?  "  he  said,  looking  me  full  in  the  face, 
and  then  in  his  courteous  way  he  laid  his  commands  on  me 
to  stay  to  luncheon,  saying  he  would  be  obliged  "  if  I  would 
do  him  this  honour ;"  he  bade  me  walk  in  the  garden,  as  he 
was  busy,  and  would  be  occupied  till  luncheon. 

I  felt  that  I  needed  a  little  quiet  and  fresh  air  to  get  over 
this  climax  of  my  troubles — out  of  one  living,  and  not  into 
another;  and  that  with  a  wife,  six  children,  and  three  servants, 
with  very  little  to  live  on.  Here  was  a  state  of  things  !  I 
had  plenty  to  occupy  my  thoughts  and  prayers.  I  feared 
and  mourned,  above  everything,  lest  God  should  be  angry 
with  me.  "  Oh,  if  I  could  only  know  this  is  the  will  of 
God,  then  I  should  not  care  a  fig  for  all  the  bishops  on  the 
bench,  and  would  not  ask  one  of  them  for  anything  !  " 

I  was  soon  roused  from  my  reverie,  by  the  presence  of 
Miss  C.  P.,  the  Bishop's  daughter,  who  had  come  out  at  her 
father's  request  to  show  me  the  garden  and  the  view.  I  had 
known  this  lady  slightly  for  several  years,  and  so  she  was  not 
altogether  a  stranger  to  me,  or  I  to  her.  She  talked  so  cheer- 
fully and  pleasantly,  that  it  came  to  my  mind,  "Perhaps,  after 
all,  the  Bishop  is  only  trying  me.  He  will  not  appoint  me  to 
this  bare  district,  because  he  has  something  better  with  which 
he  means  to  surprise  me."  This  sanguine  thought  cheered 
me  up  greatly.  At  luncheon  he  was  as  kind  and  happy  as 
if  he  had  neither  done  anything  dishonourable,  nor  had  any 
intention  of  doing  so ;  so  that  I  felt  quite  sure  something 
good  was  coming.  I  began  to  wonder  at  intervals,  "  What 
11 


232 


FROM  DEATH  INTO  LIFE. 


part  of  the  diocese  I  was  to  be  sent  to  ? — Where  is  there  a 
vacancy?"  and  so  on. 

The  Bishop  was  as  friendly  to  me  as  he  used  to  be  in 
other  days.  After  the  repast,  he  summoned  me  to  his  study 
again.  "Now,"  I  thought,  "I  shall  hear  where  I  am  to  go;" 
but  instead  of  this,  he  said  that  he  was  "much  engaged,  and 
must  take  leave  of  me." 

I  was  more  than  astonished  at  this,  and  said,  "  I  can 
scarcely  believe  that  you  refuse  to  appoint  me  !  " 

"  I  do  then,  most  positively." 

"  But  I  have  a  copy  of  my  letter  to  your  lordship,  and 
your  answer." 

"  Then  you  may  urge  your  claim  by  law,  if  you  please." 

"  No,  indeed,  my  lord,  I  do  not  think  I  will  do  that." 
And  then,  after  a  short  pause,  I  said,  "  You  have  done  for 
me  what  I  could  not  dare  do  for  myself,  though  I  have  often 
been  tempted  to  do  it." 

"  And  pray,  what  is  that  ?  "  he  inquired. 

"  To  give  up  parochial  ministration,  that  I  may  be  free 
to  preach  wherever  I  am  led." 

"  Could  you  do  that  ?  " 

"  I  could  not  do  it  conscientiously  myself;  but  now 
that  you  have  stripped  me  of  harness,  I  will  put  on  no 
more." 

The  Bishop  made  his  bow,  and  I  made  mine ;  and  that 
was  the  end  of  our  interview. 

In  my  unconverted  days  I  used  to  be  an  ardent  and 
enthusiastic  admirer  of  this  man ;  his  charges,  his  speeches, 
and  especially  his  withering,  sarcastic  letters  to  Lord  John 
Russell  and  others,  who  came  under  his  tremendous  lash, 
to  my  mind  made  him  a  great  hero.  His  straightfor\^'ard 
manner  also  commanded  my  respect,  for,  generally  speaking, 
I  had  found  bishops  very  smooth  and  two-sided,  or  rather 
both-sided ;\>vX  in  his  case  there  was  no  mistake. 


THE  BISHOP  OF  EXETER. 


233 


It  used  to  be  a  proud  time  for  me  when  this  Bishop  came 
into  Cornwall,  and  I  was  permitted  to  accompany  him,  and 
to  act  as  his  chaplain  at  the  consecration  of  a  church  or 
burial  ground,  or  to  attend  him  when  he  went  to  a  Con- 
firmation. Sometimes  I  had  the  happy  privilege  of  rowing 
him  in  a  boat  on  the  sea.  He  seemed  to  take  such  an  affec- 
tionate and  intelligent  interest  in  my  parish  and  my  church 
work.  He  asked  various  questions  about  my  neighbours, 
just  as  if  he  lived  among  them  and  knew  all  their  circum- 
stances. He  struck  me  as  a  wonderful  man,  and  I  was  his 
champion  upon  all  occasions  in  my  unconverted  days.  Not- 
withstanding this,  he  was  too  honest  to  his  own  views  to 
favour  me  after  my  conversion. 

On  my  return  home  without  a  licence,  I  had  but  a 
poor  account  to  give,  and  the  future  prospect  looked  very 
gloomy. 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 


1855. 

OCCASIONALLY  preached  in  the  parish  church, 
and  went  to  the  daily  Communion  and  the  daily 
service.  My  spare  time  I  occupied  (it  was  like 
going  back  to  brick-making  in  Egypt)  in  painting 
the  church.  I  laboured  for  hours  and  hours  to  try  and  make 
this  great  chalk-pit  of  a  place  look  somewhat  ecclesiastical 
All  round  the  church  I  painted  a  diaper  pattern,  surmounted 
with  a  border,  which  went  over  the  doors  and  under  the 
windows.  Then  on  the  bare  wall  at  the  end  I  painted  a 
life-sized  figure  of  our  Lord,  as  a  Shepherd  leading  His 
sheep,  taken  from  Overbeck's  picture.  This,  together  with 
a  few  other  pictures  of  Christ,  warmed  up  the  building 
very  well.  Then  for  the  chancel  I  had  a  most  elaborate 
design. 

First,  there  was  a  beautiful  gilded  pattern  over  the  very 
lofty  chancel  arch,  which  I  managed  to  reach  by  means  of  a 
ladder.  Professional  people  need  scaffolding  and  platforms, 
which  I  dispensed  with,  and  accomplished  the  whole  space 
in  less  time  than  it  would  take  them  to  put  up  all  their 
needful  erections.    Inside  the  chancel  I  had  twelve  niches, 


THE  LOCAL  PRESS. 


235 


with  tabernacle  work  above  them,  for  the  twelve  apostles ; 
and  these  were  all  duly  represented  after  a  true  mediteval 
pattern. 

The  local  newspaper  made  great  fun  of  these  paintings  ; 
and  the  reporter  would  have  it,  that  "these  lively  saints 
looked  very  conscious  of  being  put  up  there,  and  that  they 
were  constantly  '  craning '  their  necks  to  look  at  one 
another — as  if  they  would  inquire,  '  I  say,  how  do  you  like 
being  there?'  "  My  favourite  figure,  St.  John,  upon  which  I 
bestowed  extra  pains,  the  provoking  man  would  have  it,  was 
St.  Mary  Magdalene,  leering  at  the  apostle  next  to  her,  or  at 
the  one  opposite — it  did  not  seem  quite  clear  to  him  which  j 
but  her  head  was  down  on  one  side  in  a  bewitching 
attitude. 

In  the  middle  of  the  great  undertaking  I  was  called 
away  for  a  few  weeks.  During  this  time  the  reporter  came 
again  and  again,  but  saw  no  progress ;  he  therefore  put  an 
advertisement  into  his  paper  to  this  effect : — 

"Stolen  or  strayed,  a  monkish  priest,  who  paints 
apostles.  He  is  not  to  be  found.  Any  person  or  persons 
who  can  give  information  concerning  this  absent  personage, 
will  greatly  oblige." 

My  preaching  was  not  acceptable  in  this  church,  neither 
was  my  connection  with  it ;  and  my  apostles  were  no  better 
appreciated,  for  they  were  soon  after  whitewashed  over,  and 
disappeared  like  a  dream.  Sometimes,  in  damp  weather, 
they  were  still  to  be  seen  "  craning  "  their  necks  as  hereto- 
fore (much  to  the  amusement  of  the  chorister  boys)  though 
with  a  kind  of  veil  upon  them.  Doubtless,  in  a  future 
generation,  when  the  plaster  begins  to  blister,  some  anti- 
quarian will  discover  this  "  wonderful  mediaeval  fresco,"  and 
call  the  attention  of  the  public  to  it. 

My  ideas  and  dreams  about  catholic  advancement  were 
thus  brought  to  a  calamitous  end.    This  church  to  which  I 


236 


FROM  DEATH  INTO  LIFE. 


had  come  was  one  in  high  credit  for  much  private  and 
public  devotion ;  but,  alas  !  I  found  what  I  might  easily 
have  expected,  that  without  spiritual  vitality  everything 
must  be  dry  and  dead  !  JDry  and  dead  indeed  it  was.  The 
conversation  of  these  supposed  ascetics  was  for  the  most 
part  secular,  and  at  the  highest  only  ecclesiastical.  Their 
worship,  on  which  a  great  amount  of  pains  and  cost  was 
bestowed,  was  but  a  form  carefully  prepared  and  carefully 
executed,  as  if  critics  were  present ;  yet  it  did  not,  and 
could  not,  rise  to  spirituality.  A  lady  presided  at  the 
organ,  and  had  the  teaching  and  training  of  the  choir. 
Much  of  her  own  personal  and  religious  character  were 
imparted  to  the  performances,  which  in  tone  and  manner 
were  admirable  and  precise.  She  made  the  boys  understand 
the  sense  of  the  words  they  sang,  till  I  have  seen  them 
even  in  tears  during  the  singing.  The  "  chaste  old  verger  " 
(as  our  reporter  called  him),  who  headed  the  procession  at 
least  four  times  a  day,  up  and  down  the  church,  was  a  very 
important  and  successful  part  of  the  machinery,  and  from 
him,  up  to  the  highest  official,  everything  was  carried  out 
with  exact  precision. 

But  oh,  how  unsatisfying  and  disappointing  it  was ! — to 
a  degree  which  I  was  ashamed  to  own  !  How  could  I  be 
so  foolish,  to  give  up  a  living,  where  there  was  vitality, 
though  it  was  rough,  for  a  superficial  and  artificial  sem- 
blance of  religion?  In  the  book  of  Ecclesiastes  we  read, 
that  "  a  living  dog  is  better  than  a  dead  lion  and  though 
I  had  often  quoted  this  saying,  I  never  felt  the  truth  of  it  so 
deeply  as  now.  The  dead  lion  and  the  dead  elephant  are 
quite  immoveable  things  for  a  live  dog  to  bark  at  or  fret 
about.  It  was  a  hard  and  trying  time  to  me  in  that  place. 
I  could  not  see  my  way,  or  understand  at  all  what  was  the 
Lord's  will  towards  me. 

While  in  this  state  of  mind  I  had  a  vivid  dream.  I 


THE  HIGH-CHURCH  LADY. 


^37 


thought  that  the  ornamental  iron  grating,  which  was  for 
ventilating  the  space  under  the  floor  of  the  church,  was  all 
glowing  with  fire,  as  if  a  great  furnace  were  raging  there. 
I  tried  to  cry  "  Fire  ! "  but  could  not.  Then  I  ran  into 
the  church,  and  saw  it  full  of  people  reverently  absorbed  in 
their  devotions.  I  tried  again  to  give  the  alarm,  and  cry 
"Fire !  fire  !"  but  I  could  not  utter  a  sound.  When  I  looked 
up,  I  saw  thin,  long,  waving  strings  of  fire  coming  up  among 
the  people  through  the  joints  of  the  floor.  I  called  atten- 
tion to  this,  but  no  one  else  could  see  it.  Then  I  became 
frantic  in  my  gesticulation,  and  at  last  was  able  to  tell  some 
of  the  congregation  of  the  great  fire  which  was  under  them ; 
but  they  looked  at  one  another,  smiling,  and  told  me  to  go 
about  my  business — that  I  was  mad  !  I  woke  out  of  my 
troubled  sleep  in  a  very  agitated  and  perturbed  state.  Since 
that,  whenever  I  have  seen  or  heard  of  churches,  where 
Church  and  Sacraments  are  preached,  instead  of  Christ,  as 
the  one  way  of  salvation,  I  long  to  warn  the  people  of  the 
fire  raging  underneath,  and  to  show  them  the  way  of  the 
Lord  more  perfectly. 

One  day,  when  I  was  feeling  more  desponding  and 
wretched  than  before,  a  lady  called,  and  said  she  wanted  to 
speak  to  me — would  I  come  to  her  house  for  this  purpose  ? 
I  went,  and  she  was  not  long  before  she  opened  the 
conversation  by  charging  me  with  being  very  uncharitable. 
"You  say  we  are  all  unconverted." 

I  replied,  "  Of  course,  as  children  of  Adam  we  are,  till 
conversion  takes  place;  there  can  be  no  mistake  about 
that !  But  when  did  I  say  that  you  were  unconverted  ?  Is 
it  not  your  own  conscience  that  tells  you  that  ?  When  we 
preach  to  people  as  unconverted,  those  who  are  changed, 
and  brought  from  death  into  life,  know  as  well  as  possible 
that  we  do  not  mean  them ;  and  they  pray  for  a  blessing  on 
the  Word,  that  it  may  reach  others,  as  it  once  reached 


238  FROM  DEATH  INTO  LIFE. 

them.  They  do  not  sit  there  and  resent  the  charge,  for 
they  know  what  has  passed  between  God  and  their  souls, 
and  are  arLxious  for  others  to  share  the  same  blessing." 
She  was  silent ;  so  I  continued,  "  May  I  ask  you  the 
question,  Are  you  converted  ?  Can  you  tell  me  that  you 
are?" 

She  replied,  "  I  do  not  know  what  you  mean." 

"  Well  then,  why  do  you  suppose  that  I  mean  some- 
thing uncharitable  or  bad  ?  " 

"  Because  I  know  very  well  it  is  not  a  good  thing  to  be 
unconverted.  But,''  she  added,  "  it  seems  such  an  unkind 
thing  to  put  us  all  down  for  '  lost,'  while  you  suppose  your- 
self to  be  saved-" 

"  You  may  know  more  about  this  some  day,  perhaps ; 
but  in  the  meantime  will  you  allow  me  to  ask  you  one 
thing  :  Do  you  believe  in  the  Lxjrd  Jesus  Christ  ?  " 

She  replied  indignantly,  "  Of  course  I  do.  Now,  this  is 
the  very  want  of  charity  I  complain  of— the  idea  of  asking 
me  such  a  question  1" 

She  was  one  of  the  Rev.   's,  (the  confessor's) 

favourite  devotees,  and  had  been  absolved  by  him  for 
several  j  ears ;  the  very  idea  of  asking  her  if  she  believed  in 
the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  made  her  quite  impatient,  as  well  as 
indignant 

I  said,  "  Do  not  be  angry  with  me,  but  what  do  you 
believe  about  Him  ?  " 

"  Believe  everything,  of  course  !  I  beUeve  the  creed." 

"  Yes,  I  do  not  doubt  that,  for  a  moment  But  do  you 
believe  that  Jesus  di^dfor youf" 

"  ^^'hy,  yes,  certainly :  how  could  I  do  otherwise  ;  He 
died  for  us  all" 

"  That  is  not  the  point  I  mean,  do  you  believe  that 
He  died;  and  that  you  have  a  personal  interest  in  His 
death  ?  " 


I  HAVE  PEACE." 


*39 


She  hesitated,  and  diQD  looldi^  at  me  said,  "Do  joa 
mean  objectively,  or  snl^ectiTCly  ?" 

"  May  I  ask  vhat  I  am  to  nndfistand  by  these  vocds?" 

"Dr.  taii^iiiediat,*aiiistdied,'isob}ecti«e, 

and  tKat '  Chdst  died  for  me,'  is  snbjectrre^* 

"  Very  good  indeed,*  I  answered,  "  I  like  that  very 
modi;  it  is  quite  tzne.  Bat  it  is  one  thing  to  knov  about 
sobjective  feith^  and  quite  another  thing  to  have  it.  Xow  I 
win  come  back  to  my  qoestitm.  Do  yoa  believe  that  Chiist 
died  forjoul'' 

"  Yea  evidently  mpan  somethii^  that  I  do  not  mder- 
stand,"  she  said,  in  a  peiidexed  manna: 

Then  looking  at  the  dodfixoD  her  tabl^  I  said,  "What 
does  that  remind  yoa  of?* 

"Oh,  I  pray  before  that  every  day,  and  ask  the  Lord  to 
take  my  sins  away.'' 

"  Then  yoa  do  not  think  your  sins  aie  forgiven  yet.  How 
can  yoa  ask  for  forgiveness,  and  have  it  at  the  same  time  ?  * 

"  Do  yoa  mean  to  say  then,'  she  rallied,  with  smjxise, 
"  that  yoa  have  no  sins?  " 

"  Yes,  I  mean  to  say  that  my  sins  were  atoned  for,  once 
for  all,  oa  the  cross;  and  that,  bdieving  this,  I  have  peace 
and  lonisaon  of  siis.  My  past  sins  are  cast  like  a  stone 
into  the  deep ;  and  as  to  my  daily  sins  of  omission  and 
commission,!  do  not  take  them  to  the  cross  like  a  Komanist, 
bat  to  die  throne  oi  grace,  wheie  the  risen  and  living  Oirist 
is  now  making  intezcession  fix  me." 

She  was  silent ;  and  so  was  I,  inwardly  prayii^  for  her. 

Present})-  she  looked  op  and  said,  "  I  do  thank  Him  for 
dying  for  me.    Is  that  vrfaat  yoa  want  me  to  s^?' 

"  Thank^iving  is  an  indicatim  (tf  livii^  fiudi.  How  can 
I  believe  that  Jesus  died  for  me,  and  not  thank  Him?* 

"Bat  do  thank  Him,  and  it  is  very  oncharitaMe  of  you 
to  saj,  not  thank  Him  -  ^  all  thank  Him !  * 


240 


FROM  DEA  TH  INTO  LIFE. 


She  was  gone  again,  and  I  wondered  whether  I  should 
ever  bring  her  back  ! 

"  You  remind  me,"  I  said,  "  of  three  ladies  of  good  posi- 
tion, whom  I  met  last  year.  They  all  professed  to  thank 
God  for  Christ's  death ;  but  yet  they  had  no  peace,  and  w 
not  satisfied.  Seeing  they  were  in  real  earnest,  I  proposed 
to  go  over  the  General  Thanksgiving  in  the  Prayer-book  with 
them.  They  did  so,  and  thanked  God  for  creation,  preser- 
vation, and  all  the  blessings  of  this  life,  but  abm^e  all — then 
as  I  emphasized  this  '  above  all,'  they  said,  almost  together, 
'  That  is  where  we  are  wrong.  We  have  not  put  the  redeem- 
ing love  of  God  as  shown  in  Christ's  death,  above  all.'  These 
three  ladies  found  peace  and  pardon  that  same  evening." 

"  That  has  been  my  mistake  too,"  said  the  lady  interrupt- 
ing me.  "  I  have  never  put  Jesus  above  all;  but  I  do  desire 
to  do  so,  and  that  with  all  my  heart." 

"  Then  do  so,"  I  said,  "  and  thank  Him  for  His  love  in 
dying  in  your  stead,  and  shedding  His  blood  to  wash  your 
sins  away." 

"  He  shall  have  all  my  heart !  "  she  exclaimed. 

So  saying,  she  knelt  before  the  crucifix,  and  bowing 
gracefully  and  most  reverently,  she  reproached  herself  for 
not  putting  Jesus  first,  and  said,  "  Thou  art  worthy !  Glory 
be  to  Thee,  for  Thy  great  love  to  me." 

Then  she  rose  from  her  knees,  and  once  more  turning  to 
me,  said,  "  Thank  you  so  much  !  God  bless  you  for  your 
kindness  and  patience  with  me  !  I  cannot  tell  you  how 
much  I  thank  you.  Do  you  remember  once  preaching 
about  Abraham  offering  up  his  son  Isaac  ?  You  said,  '  God 
the  Father  has  done  more  than  this  for  us ;  and  yet  how  few 
cry  to  Him  and  say,  "  By  this  I  know  that  Thou  lovest 
me  ! "  '  I  thought,  and  felt  then,  that  you  knew  something 
which  I  should  like  to  know ;  and  I  have  been  longing  to 
speak  to  you  ever  since.    Oh,  I  do  thank  you  so  much  1 " 


A  GREA  T  MA  THEM  A  TICIAN. 


241 


"  Dear  friend,  I  cannot  refuse  your  thanks,  but  I  should 
like  to  see  you  thanking  God  more  than  you  thank  me." 

I  knew  that  she  could  sing  and  play,  so,  pointing  to  the 
piano,  I  asked  her  if  she  would  sing  a  hymn. 

"  Yes,"  she  said,  "  I  will.    What  shall  I  sing  ?  " 

"  Find  'When  I  survey  the  wondrous  cross,' "  I  said. 

She  did  not  need  to  find  the  music,  for  she  knew  it 
without ;  so,  sitting  down,  she  began  to  sing,  till  the  tears 
came  into  her  eyes,  and  her  voice  broke  down.  "  I  never 
knew  the  meaning  of  these  words  before,"  she  said  ;  "  '  Sor- 
row and  love  flow  mingled  down.'  How  could  I  be  so  blind 
and  ignorant  ?  '  Love  so  amazing,  so  divine,'  does  '  demand 
my  life,  my  soul,  my  all ! '    O  Lord,  take  it ! " 

After  this,  I  had  a  few  parting  words  with  her,  and 
pointing  to  the  crucifix  I  said,  "  Remember,  Christ  is  not  on 
the  cross  now.  He  died ;  that  is  past.  He  is  risen,  and 
has  ascended  up  on  high.  The  throne  of  grace  is  not  the 
crucifix  or  the  confessional,  but  where  Christ  sits — at  the 
right  hand  of  God ;  and  we,  as  believers,  may  in  heart  and 
mind  thither  ascend,  and  with  Him  continually  dwell. 
Have  done,  then,  with  this  dead  Popery  ;  you  know  better 
now.    Testify  for  the  glory  of  God." 

This  lady's  conversion  vexed  her  husband  greatly,  and 
brought  down  the  frowns  and  disapprobation  of  the  reverend 
doctor ;  altogether,  it  did  a  deal  of  mischief  in  the  camp. 
The  "  Sisters  of  Mercy  "  with  whom  she  was  connected  were 
kept  aloof  from  her  contaminating  influence,  and  soon  after- 
wards were  altogether  removed  from  the  place.  There  was 
one,  however,  a  particularly  hard-headed  looking  individual, 
who  used  to  stare  at  me  through  her  round  spectacles  when- 
ever I  met  her,  as  if  I  were  an  ogre.  I  heard  that  she  was 
a  great  mathematician.  She  looked  like  it ;  and  evidently 
there  was  no  fear  entertained  of  her  being  converted.  She 
and  one  other  were  left  behind ;  but  otherwise  the  house, 


242 


FROM  DEA  TH  INTO  LIFE. 


which  had  been  built  at  great  cost,  was  empty.  The  lady 
was  not  allowed  to  speak  to  me  any  more ;  but  I  hope  she 
continued  to  go  to  the  true  throne  of  grace,  and  not  to  the 
crucifix — to  a  living,  not  a  dead  Christ. 

All  this,  doubtless,  was  intended  to  sicken  me  of  my 
reverence  for  the  Catholic  theory.  I  was  evidently  under 
an  infatuation  on  the  subject,  which,  for  the  time,  nothing 
could  dispel.  I  had  some  poetic  or  imaginary  fancy  of 
spiritual  catholicity  before  my  mind,  which  I  supposed  was 
something  better  than  the  fleshly  spirituality  of  Methodism, 
to  which  I  had  taken  a  great  dislike  ;  but  where  to  find  this 
Utopia,  or  how  to  embody  it,  I  knew  not.  These  specimens 
of  catholic  people  I  certainly  had  no  sympathy  with  ;  nor 
had  I  any  patience  mth  their  hollow  devotion  and  their 
studied  imitation  of  Popery.  I  plainly  saw  that  light  could 
have  no  fellowship  with  darkness,  or  life  with  death.  I  was 
more  and  more  convinced  that  when  a  man  has  more 
sympathy  with  dead  Catholics  than  with  living  Dissenters, 
he  is  not  a  living  soul  at  all.  There  is  no  necessit)'  to  go  to 
one  extreme  or  the  other.  I  believe  the  reformed  Church 
of  England  (in  her  principles,  at  least)  occupies  the  middle 
path  between  these  two  extremes,  with  the  excellences  of 
both,  and  the  faults  of  neither.  I  think  I  was  permitted  to 
be  thus  unsettled  in  my  mind,  because  1  did  not  keep  to 
my  work  with  a  single  eye  to  God's  glory. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 


WAS  at  this  time  in\ated  to  preach  in  a  church  in 
Devonport,  where  it  pleased  the  Lord  to  give 
blessing  to  His  word.    With  this  exception,  my 
work  was,  generally  speaking,  confined  to  indi- 
vidual cases.    I  will  give  an  account  of  a  few  which  present 
the  most  instruction  and  interest. 

The  first  I  will  mention  is  that  of  one  of  the  curates  of 
the  church  in  which  I  was  asked  to  preach.  At  this  time 
he  was  preparing  for  confession,  and  his  self-examination 
had  brought  him  to  see  and  feel  that  he  was  a  sinner. 
Under  this  course  of  preparation,  the  preaching  of  the 
Gospel  had  much  effect  upon  him,  and  he  came  to  tell  me 
of  his  state.  I  was  able  to  show  him  from  the  Word  of  God 
that  he  was  in  a  worse  condition  than  he  supposed — that 
actually,  by  nature,  we  are  lost  sinners  rwiv.  Under  the 
operation  of  the  Holy  Spirit  he  was  brought  to  feel  this  also, 
and  was  very  miserable. 

One  day,  while  otSciating  at  a  funeral,  the  Lord  spoke 
peace  to  his  soul ;  so  great  was  his  joy,  that,  he  said,  he 


244 


FROM  DEATH  INTO  LIFE. 


could  scarcely  refrain  from  shouting  aloud  in  the  middle  of 
the  service.  After  it  was  over  he  went  about  everywhere, 
telling  of  his  conversion,  and  the  Lord's  dealings  with  his 
soul. 

The  result  of  this  was  that  his  fellow-curate  (who  was 
also  preparing  for  confession)  was  awakened,  and  came  to 
me  in  great  distress  of  mind,  declaring  he  "  could  not  say 
he  was  converted,"  and  that  he  was  very  unhappy.  He 
acknowledged  that  he  should  not  like  to  die  as  he  was,  and 
therefore  knew  he  ought  not  to  be  satisfied  to  live  in  that 
state.  However,  when  I  got  to  close  dealing  with  him  about 
his  soul,  he  said  that  though  he  could  not  say  he  was  saved, 
he  certainly  thought  that  he  was  beirig  saved  by  continual 
absolution  and  the  sacrament.  Upon  this,  I  was  enabled 
to  show  him  that  he  did  not  go  to  the  means  of  grace,  or 
even  to  the  Lord's  table,  because  he  was  saved,  but  in  order 
to  be  saved ;  and  that  he  was  working  for  life,  and  not  from 
life.  He  gave  up  disputing,  and  was  not  long  before  he  too 
found  peace  in  believing. 

The  time  was  approaching  for  these  two  curates  to  go, 
as  usual,  to  confession.  They  came  together  to  ask  me 
about  it.  I  counselled  them  to  go,  by  all  means,  to  the 
reverend  doctor,  who  usually  received  their  confession,  and 
to  tell  him  in  their  own  words  how  the  Lord  had  convicted 
and  converted  them.  I  said  that  Bilney,  one  of  the  first 
martyrs  of  the  Reformation,  when  he  was  converted,  went 
immediately  to  make  confession  to  Latimer,  and  by  doing 
so  he  became  the  means  of  his  conversion.  "  Go,  by  all 
means  ;  you  do  not  know  what  use  the  Lord  may  make  of 
your  testimony." 

They  went  accordingly,  but  did  not  meet  with  the  happy 
success  of  Bilney,  for  they  were  sent  indignantly  away  one 
after  the  other  for  saying  their  sins  were  pardoned  and  their 
souls  saved,  and  that  by  direct  and  personal  faith  in  Christ, 


"ARE  YOU  A  CLERGYMAN 245 

without  the  intervention  of  a  priest.  The  reverend  con- 
fessor, unlike  the  honest  Latimer,  said  these  young  men 
had  come  to  mock  him. 

Notwithstanding  these  instances  of  usefulness  and  en- 
couragement, I  continued  to  be  very  unhappy,  for  want  of 
more  general  work,  and  felt  as  if  God  had  cast  me  off.  I 
can  now  see  that  this  trying  and  perplexing  dispensation 
through  which  I  was  passing,  was  not  altogether  such  a 
barren  desert  as  I  felt  it  to  be  at  the  time.  It  was  fraught 
with  many  lessons,  which  have  stood  by  me  ever  since, 
though  I  must  confess  I  never  revert  to  this  period  without 
many  unhappy  memories. 

I  will  record  one  more  lesson  which  I  was  taught  in  this 
place,  and  then  go  on  to  other  subjects. 

One  warm  spring  day,  while  I  was  sitting  in  my  house 
with  the  doors  and  windows  open,  a  gentleman  came  running 
into  it  in  great  haste,  somewhat  to  my  surprise,  he  being  a 
perfect  stranger  to  me,  and  I  to  him.  Standing  in  the 
passage,  and  looking  into  the  room  where  I  was  seated,  he 
said,  "  Sir,  are  you  a  clergyman  ?  " 

I  replied,  "Yes,  I  am." 

"  For  God's  sake,  come ;  follow  me  !  " 

So  saying,  he  went  away.  I  immediately  took  up  my 
hat,  and  ran  after  him  down  the  side  of  the  square,  and 
noticing  the  gate  where  he  turned  in,  I  walked  leisurely  to 
the  same  place,  and  found  him  in  the  passage  of  his  house 
panting  for  breath.  He  had  run  so  fast  that  he  could  not 
speak,  but  made  a  sign  to  me  to  go  upstairs  ;  then  pointing 
to  a  door,  he  bade  me  go  in.  On  doing  so,  I  saw  at  once  it 
was  a  sick-chamber,  and  found  myself  alone  in  the  presence 
of  a  lady,  who  was  sitting  up  in  the  bed.  I  bowed  to  her, 
and  said,  "  Can  I  help  you  ?  " 

She  said,  "  Oh,  no  !  it  is  too  late  ! " 


246  FROM  DEATH  INTO  LIFE. 

"  Too  late  for  what  ?  " 

"  I  am  dying ;  I  am  lost — I  am  lost !  It  is  too  late — 
too  late ! " 

"  But  Christ  came,  and  is  present,  to  save  the  lost." 

"  Oh,  yes !  I  know  all  that.  I  taught  it  to  others,  but 
I  never  believed  it  myself.  And  now  it  is  too  late  :  I  am 
lost ! " 

"  Then  believe  it  now  !    Why  not  *  now '  ?  " 
"  Because  it  is  too  late  !  " 

"  While  there  is  life  there  is  hope  !  Lose  no  more  time. 
'  God  so  loved  the  world,  that  He  gave  His  only-begotten 
Son,  that  whosoever  believeth  on  Him  should  not  perish '  " 
(John  iii.  i6). 

"  That  is  not  for  me.  I  know  that  text  very  well,  but  it 
will  not  do  for  me.   I  am  lost!  I  am  lost!   It  is  too  late  !" 

While  I  was  speaking  I  saw  her  falling  over  the  side  of 
the  bed.  S^jringing  forward,  I  put  out  my  arm,  and,  with 
her  head  resting  on  it,  and  her  despairing  eyes  looking  into 
my  face,  she  expired.  I  could  scarcely  believe  it,  when  I 
saw  that  flush  on  her  face  fade  away  into  the  pallor  of 
death.  She  was  gone  I  I  placed  her  poor  head  on  the 
pillow,  and  rang  the  bell  for  assistance.  Her  mother  and 
sister  came  in,  saying,  "  Is  it  not  dreadful  ?  " 

I  said,  "  Look  at  her.  She  is  gone.  She  said  it  was  too 
late,  and  that  she  was  lost  for  ever." 

"  Oh,"  exclaimed  the  mother,  "  it  is  most  dreadful ! — 
most  dreadful ! " 

This  poor  young  lady  used  to  be  a  Sunday-school 
teacher  and  district  visitor ;  but  she  was  never  converted, 
and  she  knew  it.  She  had  full  head-knowledge,  but  no 
heart  experience,  and  thus  she  died  in  unforgiven  sins. 
Lost — for  ever  lost ! 

Notwithstanding  this,  and  other  solemn  lessons  which 
the  Lord  was  teaching  me  at  this  time,  I  was  still  restless 


"/  WISH  I  HAD  NEVER  BEEN  BORN.'"  247 


and  unhappy.  I  felt  as  if  my  life,  with  its  work,  was  cut  off 
in  the  very  beginning  of  its  usefulness,  and  that  there 
was  no  more  for  me  to  do.  As  the  weather  became  hot 
with  the  advancing  summer,  I  was  more  and  more  dejected 
in  mind  and  body.  I  lived  now  among  strangers,  and  had 
no  settled  occupation,  nor  could  I  apply  myself  to  study. 

One  very  hot  and  dusty  afternoon,  as  I  was  slowly 
toiling  up  a  steep  hill,  two  women  overtook  me;  and  as  they 
were  passing,  I  heard  one  say  to  the  other,  in  a  very  sad 
and  disheartened  tone,  "  I  wish  I  had  never  been  born ; " 
and  the  other  responded  much  in  the  same  spirit,  though 
I  could  not  hear  what  she  said.  A  fellow-feeling  makes  us 
wondrous  kind,  and  has  the  effect  of  drawing  out  our  sym- 
pathies. I  followed  these  poor  women,  and  when  we  were 
on  the  top  of  the  hill,  I  spoke  to  them,  and  then  added, 
"  You  seem  very  weary.  Will  you  come  in  and  take  a  cup 
of  tea,  and  rest  a  Uttle  ?  "  They  thanked  me,  and  consented. 
So  I  took  them  into  the  house,  and  asked  for  some  tea. 
WTiile  it  was  being  prepared,  I  said  to  them,  "  I  overheard 
you  talking  on  the  road  as  you  passed  me.  Do  you  really 
wish  you  had  never  been  born  ?  "  The  poor  woman  who 
had  uttered  these  words  burst  into  tears ;  and  as  soon  as 
she  could  command  her  feelings  sufficiently,  she  told  me 
her  sad  tale  of  sorrow  and  trouble.  She  was  a  soldier's 
wife,  as  was  also  the  other,  and  they  were  both  in  the  same 
distress.  "Well,"  I  said,  "trouble  does  not  spring  out  of 
the  ground ;  and  we  may  be  equally  sure  that  God,  who 
sends,  or  at  least  permits  it,  does  so  for  aur  good.  One 
thing  is  certain,  that  if  we  humble  ourselves  under  the 
mighty  hand  of  God,  He  can  and  will  lift  us  up,  for  He  has 
promised  to  do  so.  He  will  make  all  things  work  together 
for  our  good,  if  we  trust  Him.  I  then  asked  them  if  they 
had  gi\  en  their  hearts  to  God. 

One  of  them  said,  "  Ah,  that  is  what  I  ought  to  have 


248  FROM  DEA  TH  INTO  LIFE. 

done  long  ago ;  I  know  a  deal  better  than  I  do.  I  was 
brought  up  well,  no  mistake ;  but  I  was  giddy,  and  went 
after  the  red-coats,  and  married  an  ungodly  man,  and  now 
I  am  suffering  for  it." 

"  Dear  woman,"  I  said,  "  you  may  thank  God  for  hedg- 
ing up  your  path.  He  might  have  given  you  over  to  pros- 
perity and  a  false  happiness,  or  left  you  altogether.  Thank 
God  that  it  is  not  worse  with  you ;  and  give  Him  your  heart. 
Do  you  believe  that  the  Lord  Jesus  died  for  you  ? "  She 
would  not  speak.  Then  I  turned  to  the  other,  who  was  also 
crying,  and  said,  "  Do  you  believe  ?  " 

"  I  did  once,"  she  said,  in  a  dejected  tone ;  "  but  I  have 
gone  back  from  everything." 

By  this  time  their  tea  was  ready,  so  I  refreshed  them 
with  it ;  and  after  that  we  resumed  our  conversation  and 
united  in  prayer.  They  both  gave  their  hearts  to  God.  I 
found  that  they  lived  not  far  off,  so  I  had  the  opportunity  of 
seeing  them  from  time  to  time,  and  was  able  to  instruct 
and  cheer  them  on  their  way.  I  can  see  now  how  God  was 
speaking  to  me  through  these  women ;  but  somehow  I  did 
not  hear  or  recognize  His  voice  then. 

About  this  time,  my  dear  wife  became  very  prostrate  in 
health  and  spirits — so  much  so,  that  we  felt  anxious  about  her. 
I  went  to  a  famous  physician,  who  was  in  the  neighbour- 
hood, and  asked  him  to  come  and  see  her.  He  did  so,  and 
after  careful  examination,  said  that  there  was  really  nothing 
the  matter  more  than  that  she  was  one  of  those  persons 
who  could  not  live  in  that  limestone  town  in  the  summer. 
He  said,  "  She  will  be  perfectly  well  if  you  take  her  away 
into  the  country.  You  must  do  this  at  once,  for  the  longer 
she  remains  here,  the  weaker  she  will  be."  He  refused  to 
take  any  fee,  and  said  he  would  send  a  carriage  at  two 
o'clock,  and  that  we  must  be  ready  to  start  by  that  time. 
This  was  more  easily  said  than  done ;  for  where  could  I 


IN  THE  COUNTRY. 


249 


take  the  children,  or  how  could  I  leave  them  at  home  ? 
However,  as  the  doctor  was  very  peremptory,  we  prayed 
about  it,  and  considered  how  we  were  to  accomplish  the 
task. 

At  this  critical  moment  a  friend  arrived  in  his  carriage, 
and  said  he  had  driven  in  from  the  country  to  bring  some 
relatives  of  his  to  the  train,  and  did  not  care  to  go  back 
alone.  "  Would  one  of  us,  or  both,  take  pity  on  him,  and 
give  him  our  company?"  As  soon  as  he  heard  of  our 
position  he  greatly  rejoiced,  and  said,  "  Come,  all  of  you ; 
I  have  plenty  of  room  ! "  He  took  the  invalid,  with  some 
of  the  children.  I  shut  up  the  house,  and  followed  with 
the  others  and  the  nurse,  in  the  fly,  which  duly  arrived  at 
two  o'clock.  By  five  o'clock  we  were  all  out  in  the  green 
fresh  country,  and  our  patient  was  already  revived,  and 
walking  about  the  garden. 

There  happened  to  be  a  farm-house  vacant,  which  we 
took,  and  removing  some  of  the  furniture,  made  it  com- 
fortable for  the  present.  This  we  called  "home"  for  a 
little  time  during  my  unsettled  state. 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 


^  fission  to  t\)t  flortlj. 

HEN  my  family  were  all  comfortably  settled  and 
surrounded  by  kind  friends,  I  went  off  to  the 
north  of  England,  on  a  visit  to  a  clergyman,  who 
had  invited  me.  He  had  already  suffered  for 
doing  this  on  a  previous  occasion,  in  the  diocese  of  Oxford; 
where  the  bishop  took  away  his  licence,  because  he  had 
me  to  preach  for  him.  The  real  cause  of  offence  was,  that 
there  was  a  revival  in  the  parish ;  and  complaint  was  made 
to  the  bishop,  that  people  were  kept  up  till  "  all  hours  of 
the  night,  howling  and  praying."  His  lordship  sent  forth- 
with for  my  friend's  licence  ;  I  advised  him  to  send  it,  say- 
ing, "  He  will  be  sure  to  return  it  to  you ;  but  perhaps 
with  a  reprimand."  Instead  of  this,  the  bishop  kept  it, 
and  said  that  he  would  countersign  his  testimonials  to  go 
to  another  diocese.  My  friend  was  at  first  disgusted  and 
disposed  to  rebel ;  but  instead  of  this,  he  bore  the  treat- 
ment patiently ;  and  went  to  another  position  and  charge 

at  G  ,  in  the  north  of  England. 

Thither,  nothing  afraid,  he  invited  me  to  come.  In  this 
part  of  the  country  I  found  a  hearty  lively  people,  some- 


AT  EDWARD'S  GRAVE.  251 

thing  like  the  Cornish.  Here  I  soon  regained  my  spirits, 
and  got  to  work  in  right  earnest. 

In  this  place  a.  revival  began  at  once ;  and  every  day 
we  had  people  crying  for  mercy,  very  much  in  the  way  they 
did  in  Cornwall.  Among  others,  there  came  to  the  church 
on  Sunday  afternoon,  a  tall  Yorkshireman,  in  his  working 
clothes.  He  stood  under  the  gallery,  in  his  shirt  sleeves, 
with  a  clay  pipe  sticking  out  of  his  waistcoat  pocket,  and  a 
little  cap  on  his  head.  I  fancy  I  can  see  him  now,  stand- 
ing erect,  looking  earnestly  at  me  while  I  was  preaching, 
with  his  hand  on  one  of  the  iron  supports  of  the  gallery. 
As  the  sermon  proceeded  he  became  deeply  interested,  and 
step  by  step  drew  nearer  to  the  pulpit.  He  seemed  to  be 
altogether  unconscious  that  he  was  not  dressed  for  a 
Sunday  congregation,  or  that  he  was  the  object  of  any 
special  notice.  After  the  sermon,  he  knelt  down  in  the 
aisle,  and  there  he  remained.  I  was  called  out  of  the 
vestry  to  go  to  him,  but  could  not  get  him  to  say  a  word, 
I  prayed  by  his  side,  and  after  some  time  he  groaned  out 
an  "Amen,"  then  he  got  up,  and  went  towards  the  door. 
I  followed  him,  and  saw  that  instead  of  going  along  the 
path,  he  made  across  the  graves  in  the  churchyard,  to  a 
particular  one  ;  and  then  he  threw  himself  on  the  ground, 
in  vehement  and  convulsive  emotion.  He  said  something 
about  "  Edward,"  but  we  could  not  distinguish  what  it  was. 
The  sexton  said,  that  this  was  his  son  Edward's  grave.  Poor 
man  !  he  was  in  great  sorrow ;  but  he  kept  it  all  to  himself. 
He  then  went  home,  and  shut  himself  up  in  his  own 
room.  His  daughter  could  do  nothing  with  him  in  his 
distress.  We  called  several  times  to  see  him  in  the  course 
of  the  evening,  but  in  vain. 

The  next  morning  I  called  again,  when  his  daughter 
told  me  that  he  had  gone  out  early,  and  had  not  returned 
to  breakfast.    She  appeared  to  be  in  a  good  deal  of  trouble, 


252  FROM  DEATH  INTO  LIFE. 


and  said  she  had  been  to  his  mine  to  inquire  for  him,  but 
that  he  was  not  there.  All  day  long  we  searched  for  him. 
Some  looked  in  the  woods,  half-expecting  they  might  find 
his  body  on  the  ground,  or  hanging  from  a  tree ;  while 
others  inquired  in  every  direction,  with  increasing  anxiety, 
till  the  evening.  Then,  as  we  were  returning  home  in 
despair  and  disappointment,  whom  should  we  see  in  the 
green  lane  between  the  vicarage  and  the  church,  but  our 
friend.  He  was  looking  into  the  shrubs  as  if  watching 
something  ;  «and  when  we  came  up  to  him,  he  turned  to  us 
with  a  radiant  smile,  and  said,  "The  Lord  is  'gude.'" 
I  said,  "  You  are  right.  He  is  so." 

"  Yes,  I  am  right,  all  right !  thank  God !  Think  of  that ! 
He  saved  me  this  day  ! " 

"  Are  you  coming  to  church  to-night  ?  " 

"  Oh  yes,  certainly  I  will  be  there." 

"  But,"  I  said,  "  have  you  been  home  yet?" 

"  Oh  yes,  sir,  thank  you  ;  my  girl  knows  all  about  me." 

That  man  was  so  manifestly  changed,  and  so  filled 
with  the  Spirit,  that  his  old  worldly  companions  were  afraid 
of  him.  The  publican  of  the  inn  he  used  to  frequent,  was 
particularly  so,  and  said  he  was  frightened  to  be  in  the  same 
room  with  him. 

There  was  a  great  stir  among  the  people  in  this  place ; 
for  the  fear  of  the  Lord  had  fallen  on  them,  so  that  they 
were  solemnized  exceedingly,  and  many  were  converted. 

The  vicar  being  somewhat  timid,  began  to  be  afraid  of 
what  was  going  on ;  and  wrote  to  ask  counsel  of  a  clerical 

neighbour  at  C  ,  who  answered  his  letter  by  inviting  him 

to  come  over,  and  bring  me  with  him.  He  said  that  he 
wanted  me  to  preach  in  his  church  on  the  following  Friday 
evening,  adding,  "  I  have  already  given  notice,  and  also  read 
parts  of  your  letter  in  church.  I  am  sure  the  people  will 
come  and  hear  this  man ;  I  expect  a  large  congregation. 


''EVER!  NEVER." 


253 


Be  sure  and  bring  him  over ;  do  not  disappoint  me  on  any 
account ! " 

Accordingly,  on  the  Friday  we  appeared  there,  and  in 
the  evening  I  preached  to  a  large  and  attentive  assembly. 
Many  were  awakened,  and  some  remained  behind  to  be 
spoken  with;  others,  who  were  too  shy  to  do  so,  went 
home;  and  we  heard  the  next  morning  that  several  had 
had  no  sleep  or  rest  all  night  Three  men,  whom  we  saw 
in  the  morning,  had  found  peace.    After  this,  we  drove 

slowly  back  to  G  ,  but  a  messenger  had  awived  before 

us,  and  said  that  I  must  come  back  again  with  him,  for  the 
bills  were  already  out  that  I  would  preach  on  Sunday  and 

following  days  at  C  .    The  vicar  was  most  reluctant  to 

let  me  go,  but  under  these  circumstances,  he  at  last  con- 
sented ;  so  I  went  back  in  the  carriage  the  messenger  had 
brought  for  that  purpose. 

At  the  Sunday  morning  service,  the  manner  and  tone  of 
the  people,  and  their  eager  attention,  implied  that  some- 
thing was  going  to  happen.  There  was  a  deeply  solemn 
feeling  in  the  church,  both  morning  and  evening,  which 
made  it  very  easy  to  preach.  In  the  course  of  my  sermon, 
I  know  not  why,  I  was  led  to  speak  about  the  endless 
misery  of  hell ;  and  some  who  were  present  said  I  asserted, 
"  That  there  was  a  great  clock  in  hell,  with  a  large  dial,  but 
no  hands  to  mark  the  progress  of  time  :  it  had  a  pendulum 
which  swung  sullenly  and  slowly  from  side  to  side,  con- 
tinually saying,  '  Ever  !  never  ! '  'Ever  !  never  1 "'  * 

This  seemed  to  make  a  profound  sensation  among  the 
people:  many  stayed  to  the  after-meeting — they  would  not 
go  away  until  they  had  been  spoken  with.  Among  others,  the 
churchwarden  came  to  me  in  a  very  excited  state,  and  said, 


*  Both  Bridaine  and  Krummacher  have  expressed  somewhat  the 
same  idea. 


2S4 


FROM  DEATH  INTO  LIFE. 


"  What  ever  made  you  say,  '  Now  or  never  ! — now  or 
never  ! '  ?  "  He  was  like  one  beside  himself  with  emotion 
when  he  thought  of  the  pendulum  which  I  had  described. 
"  Now  or  never  ! — now  or  never  ! "  he  kept  on  repeating  to 
himself,  till  at  last  he  went  away.  He  was  far  too  excited  to 
talk  of  anything  else,  or  to  listen  either. 

Later  on  in  the  evening,  we  were  sent  for  to  come  in  all 
haste  to  his  house.  There  we  found  him  in  great  trouble 
of  mind,  and  afraid  to  go  to  bed.  After  talking  to  him  for 
a  short  time,  he  went  on  to  say  that  he  had  a  strange  thing 
to  tell  us — "  that  that  very  morning  he  was  lying  in  bed  (he 
thought  he  was  quite  awake),  and  looking  at  a  little  picture 
of  the  crucifixion  which  was  hanging  over  the  fireplace. 
While  doing  so,  he  saw  as  plainly  as  possible  some  black 
figures  of  imps  and  devils  walking  along  the  mantelpiece 
with  a  ladder,  which  they  placed  against  the  wall,  evidently 
for  the  purpose  of  removing  this  picture  from  its  place.  He 
watched  them  intently,  and  noticed  that  they  seemed  much 
troubled  and  perplexed  as  to  how  they  were  to  accomplish 
their  task.  Some  of  the  imps  put  their  shoulders  to  the 
under  side  of  the  frame,  while  others  went  up  the  ladder ; 
one,  in  particular,  mounted  to  the  top  with  great  dexterity, 
to  get  the  cord  off  the  nail,  but  without  success.  Enraged 
at  this,  they  made  various  other  attempts,  but  all  in  vain, 
and  at  last  gave  up  in  despair,  if  not  something  worse ;  for 
by  this  time  they  appeared  furious,  and  dashed  the  ladder 
down  to  the  ground,  as  if  it  were  the  fault  of  it,  and  not 
of  themselves.  In  rage  and  disappointment,  they  passed 
off  the  scene. 

Presently  the  bedroom  door  opened,  as  he  thought,  and 
who  should  present  himself  but  "  Paul  Pry  "  (that  was  the 
name  he  had  given  to  a  Dissenting  preacher  in  the  village, 
who 'was  a  portly  man,  and  always  went  about  with  a  thick 
umbrella  under  his  arm) — the  veritable  Paul  Pry,  umbrella 


THE  CHURCHWARDEN. 


255 


and  all,  standing  at  the  door.  He  said  to  his  visitor,  "^\'hat 
do  you  want  here  ?  "  The  phantom  pointed  to  the  picture 
over  the  mantelpiece,  and  said,  in  a  quiet,  confiding  way, 
"  Now  or  never  !  Do  you  hear,  man  ?  Now.  or  never  !  " 
The  man  was  indignant  at  this  untimely  intrusion,  and  bade 
his  visitor  begone ;  but,  for  all  that,  he  still  stood  at  the 
door,  and  said,  "  Now  or  never  ! — now  or  never  ! "  He  got 
out  of  bed,  and  went  towards  the  door,  but  the  figure  dis- 
appeared, saying,  "  Now  or  never  ! — now  or  never  !  " 

Then  he  got  into  bed  again,  and  all  was  still  for  a  little 
while,  when  suddenly  the  door  opened  a  second  time,  and 
the  vicar  appeared,  just  as  Paul  Pry  had  done,  and  came 
towards  the  bed,  as  if  with  a  friendly  and  affectionate  concern 
for  his  welfare,  and  said,  "  My  dear  fellow,  be  persuaded 
— it  is  '  now  or  never  ! ' "  Then,  taking  a  seat  at  the  corner 
of  the  bed,  with  his  back  leaning  against  the  post,  he  went 
on  talking,  and  saying,  again  and  again,  "  Now  or  never  ! " 

The  poor  churchwarden  remonstrated  in  vain  against 
being  visited  in  this  manner,  and  thought  it  very  hard  ;  but 
the  vicar  sat  there,  and  persistently  said,  "  Now  or  never  !" 
He  became  very  angr}',  and  bade  him  go  out  of  the  room 
immediately  ;  but  the  vicar  said,  "  Now  or  never  ! " 

"  I  will  '  now '  you,"  he  said,  "if  you  do  not  be  off ;  " 
and  so  saying  he  rose  up  in  his  bed  ;  while  the  vicar  glided 
to  the  door,  repeating,  "  Now  or  never  ! "  and  went  away. 
The  poor  man,  in  great  distress  of  mind,  turned  to  his  wife, 
and  asked  her  what  could  be  the  meaning  of  all  this  ;  but 
she  only  cried,  and  said  nothing. 

Then,  who  should  come  next  but  Mr.  F  ,  a  quiet 

man  of  few  words.  He  had  thoughts,  no  doubt,  but  kept 
them  all  to  himself.  He  came  gliding  into  the  room,  as  the 
vicar  had  done,  sat  on  the  same  corner  of  the  bed,  leant 
against  the  same  post,  and  in  the  quietest  way  possible 
repeated  the  same  words,  "  Now  or  never  ! " 
12 


256  FROM  DEATH  INTO  LIFE. 

"  Do  you  hear  him?"  said  the  poor  distracted  man  to  his 
wife — "  do  you  hear  him  ?  " 

"Hear  him?  Hear  what?  No!  nonsense!  ^^'hat 
does  he  say  ?  " 

"  My  dear,  there  !  Usten  ! " 

"  Now  or  never  ! "  said  the  quiet  man. 

"  There,  did  you  not  hear  that  ?  " 

"  No,"  she  said,  "  I  can  hear  nothing,"  and  began  to  cry 
more  copiously. 

He  got  up,  and  said  he  would  take  the  poker  and  punish 
every  one  of  them— that  he  would.  The  strange  visitor 
made  for  the  door,  and,  like  all  the  rest,  said,  as  he  dis- 
appeared, "  Now  or  never  ! " 

The  poor  churchwarden  continued  in  a  most  distracted 
state,  and  during  the  day  met  all  his  three  visitors  who  had 
caused  him  so  much  anxiety—"  Paul  Pr>',"  the  vicar,  and 
the  quiet  gentleman,  none  of  whom  looked  at  him  or  spoke 
to  him  as  if  anything  had  happened ;  but  when  he  heard 
me  say  over  and  over  again  in  the  pulpit,  "  Now  or  never  !" 
pointing,  as  it  were,  to  the  ghostly  pendulum  swinging  there 
saying,  "Ever  !— never !  "  and  inquiring  of  the  people,  "  Do 
you  see  it  ?  do  you  hear  it  ?  "  it  seemed  to  bring  matters  to 
a  climax.  He  said  he  turned  and  looked  at  the  wall  to 
which  I  pointed,  and  almost  expected  to  see  that  solemn 
clock. 

I  did  not  wait  to  hear  more,  but  kneeling  down,  I 
begged  him  to  close  with  the  offer  of  salvation  "  now." 
"  No,"  he  said,  with  a  sigh,  "  I  am  afraid  I  have  refused  too 
long ! " 

"  Don't  say  so!  take  it  at  once,  'now;'  or  perhaps  it  will 
be  '  never' with  you."  A  man  does  not  often  get  such  a 
plain  warning  as  you  have  had.  You  had  better  take  care 
what  you  are  doing.  *  Now  1 '  why  not  '  now '  ?  "  He  did 
accept  salvation,  and  yielding  himself  to  God,  received 


ZACCHEUS. 


257 


forgiveness  of  his  sins;  and  after  that  became  a  very 
different  man. 

He  had,  as  may  have  been  suspected  from  the  above 
narrative,  the  besetment  of  drink,  before  his  conversion, 
and  it  remained  a  trouble  to  him  after.  Conversion  and 
forgiveness  of  sins  do  not  put  away  present  bad  habits. 
Such  a  master  habit  as  this  requires  a  direct  deaUng  with. 

Zaccheus  was  a  man  who  had  been  led  astray  by  the 
love  of  money ;  when  he  was  saved,  he  put  his  idol  away 
from  him  at  a  stroke.  This  is  the  first  thing  to  be  done  ; 
and  if  it  is  done  in  the  power  of  one's  first  love,  it  is  a  more 
easy  task  than  aftenvards.  But  it  must  be  done  with  a  firm 
and  whole  heart ;  not "  Lord,  shall  I  give  the  half  of  my  goods 
to  feed  the  poor?"  but,  "  Lord,  behold,  the  half  of  my  goods 
I  do  give.'"  "  Behold,  Lord,  I  do  give  up  the  world,' here, 
now."  "  Behold,  Lord,  I  do  here,  and  now,  give  up  drink, 
and  will  totally  abstain  from  it  henceforth."  This  is  the 
first  step ;  and  the  next  is  not  less  important,  and  that  is  to 
carry  out  the  determination  in  the  Lord's  power,  and  not  in 
our  own.  The  resolution  and  determination  once  made, 
must  be  given  over  to  the  Lord  to  be  kept  by  Him  ;  not 
by  our  own  effort  and  energ)',  but  with  perfect  distrust  of 
self  and  in  dependence  upon  Him  to  enable  us  to  keep  it. 
Without  this,  there  is  no  security  whatever  for  anything 
more  than  temporary'  success,  too  often  succeeded  by  a 
sorrowful  fall.  The  flesh  is  too  strong  for  us,  and  even  if  it 
were  not  so,  the  devil  is  ;  these  two  together,  besides  the  lax 
example  of  the  world,  are  sure  to  overpower  the  weak  one. 
Young  Christians  need  to  put  away  at  once  the  sin,  what- 
ever it  is,  that  "  so  easily  besets "  them,  or  they  will  be 
entangled  by  it  There  is  no  real  and  thorough  deliverance,, 
except  by  renouncing  sin,  and  self  too,  giving  up  and  yield- 
ing to  the  Lord. 

That  soul  was  saved ;  but  it  was  a  miserable  bondage  of 


258 


FROM  DEATH  INTO  LIFE. 


fear  in  which  he  lived  and  died.  He  was  brought  home  at 
last,  like  a  wrecked  ship  into  harbour,  who  might  have 
come  in  with  a  good  freight,  a  happy  welcome,  and  an 
"abundant  entrance." 

The  next  day,  Monday,  we  heard  of  other  cases  which 
were  ordinary  in  their  character,  and  therefore  need  not  be 
detailed ;  but  in  the  evening  there  was  one  which  it  will  be 
instructive  to  mention. 

It  was  that  of  a  clergyman  of  private  means,  who  came 
to  this  parish  as  a  curate ;  but  he  had  given  up  "  taking 
duty,"  because,  he  said,  "it  was  all  humbug  reading  prayers, 
and  all  that."  He  drove  a  tandem,  and  smoked  all  day 
instead ;  nevertheless,  he  was  the  object  of  much  and 
earnest  prayer.  He  also  happened  to  be  at  church  the  day 
I  preached  about  the  clock;  and  declared  likewise  that 
I  said  there  was  a  clock  in  hell.  The  sermon  had  evidently 
made  a  great  impression  upon  him.  He  came  to  church 
again  the  next  day,  and  heard  something  else  that  he  was 
unable  to  forget.  After  the  service,  as  soon  as  I  was  free,  he 
asked  me  to  walk  with  him,  to  which  I  assented,  though  I 
was  feeling  very  tired.  We  rambled  on  the  beach,  and 
•alked  about  many  things.  I  tried  in  vain  to  bring  up  the 
subject  of  my  discourse.  When  I  spoke  about  it,  he  was 
silent ;  and  when  I  was  silent,  he  went  off  into  other  matters. 
He  talked  about  Jerusalem  and  the  sands  of  the  desert, 
and  the  partridges,  which,  he  said,  were  of  the  same  colour 
as  the  sand.  Was  it  from  looking  at  sand  always  that  they 
became  that  colour?  Do  people  become  alike  who  look 
much  at  one  another  ?  Is  that  why  husbands  and  wives 
so  often  resemble  each  other  ?  and  so  on.  These  questions 
made  an  impression  on  me,  so  that  they  always  come  up  to 
my  memory  in  connection  with  that  evening's  walk.  Cer- 
tainly, the  apostle  says  that,  "  Beholding  the  glory  of  the  Lord, 


HOW  CAN  I  BE  SA  VED  ?  "  2  59 


we  are  changed  into  the  same  image  from  glory  to  glory 
therefore  there  may  be  something  in  my  companion's  idea. 
But,  however  interesting  the  subject  might  be  to  consider,  I 
was  far  too  tired  for  anything  else  but  real  soul-to-soul  work, 
and  therefore  proposed  that  we  should  return  home.  We 
did  so ;  and  when  my  friend  left  me  at  the  vicarage  door, 
he  said  abruptly,  "Will  you  let  me  write  to  you  ?" 
"  Certainly,"  I  replied. 

"  I  will  write  to-night ;  but  do  not  trouble  to  answer  in 
person;  send  me  a  written  reply." 

I  said  I  would.  In  a  few  minutes  after  I  received  a 
short  note,  the  purport  of  which  was,  "  How  can  I  be 
saved?"  It  is  a  very  simple  question,  yet  one  not  so  easily 
answered  to  a  person  who  already  knew  the  scriptural 
answer.  However,  I  had  a  letter  by  me  which  Mr.  Aitken 
had  written  to  some  one  under  similar  circumstances ;  so, 
taking  that  for  a  model,  I  wrote  according  to  promise, 
adapting  and  altering  sentences  to  meet  the  present  case. 
I  sent  the  note,  with  a  message  that  I  would  call  in  the 
morning.    I  did  so,  but  found  my  friend  was  not  at  home. 

The  landlady  said,  "  Mr.  F          went  out  last  night  soon 

after  he  received  a  letter,  and  has  not  been  home  since." 
She  became  alarmed  when  she  heard  that  we  had  not  seen 
him.  We  too  were  taken  by  surprise,  and  did  not  know 
which  way  to  go  in  search  of  him,  or  what  to  do.  Presently 
we  met  the  clerk  of  the  church,  who  inquired  if  we  had  seen 

anything  of  Mr.  F  ;  he  had  called  the  night  before  for 

the  keys  of  the  church,  and  had  not  returned  them ;  so  he 
(the  clerk)  could  not  get  into  the  church  to  ring  the  bell  or 
admit  the  congregation. 

This  threw  some  light  on  the  matter  ;  so  we  went  imme- 
diately to  the  church,  and  with  the  vicar's  keys  entered  by 
the  vestry  door.  Looking  about  in  all  directions,  we  found 
our  friend  on  his  knees  in  the  nave,  where  he  had  been  all 


26o 


FROM  DEA  TH  INTO  LIFE. 


night.  I  went  up  to  him,  and,  as  he  did  not  speak,  I  asked 
if  I  might  pray  with  him. 

He  said,  "Yes." 

"  What  shall  I  pray  for  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know." 

"  Shall  I  ask  the  Lord  to  come  down  from  heaven  again 
and  die  on  the  cross  for  you  ?  " 
"  No." 

"  Do  you  believe  that  He  has  done  that  ?  " 
"Yes,  I  do." 

"You  do  believe  that  He  has  died  {ox  you — for  you?" 
I  inquired,  laying  the  emphasis  on  you — "  for  you,  as  if  you 
were  the  only  person  for  whom  He  died  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  I  believe  He  died  for  me." 

"  Do  you  thank  Him  for  it  ?  " 

"  No,  I  do  not ;  I  do  not  feel  anything." 

"  That  may  be ;  but  do  you  not  think  you  ought  to 
thank  Him  for  what  He  did  for  you  ?  " 

He  did  not  reply. 

"  How  can  you  feel  anything  till  you  have  it  ?  or  how 
can  He  give  you  any  feelings  till  you  thank  Him  for  what 
He  has  already  done  for  you  ?  Make  some  acknowledg- 
ment." 

"  Thank  you,"  he  replied ;  and  without  another  word 
he  rose  from  his  knees  and  went  away. 

The  bell  was  rung,  the  people  assembled,  and  we  had 
the  service  ;  but  he  did  not  remain. 

Again  he  disappeared  for  the  whole  day,  until  the  even- 
ing, when  he  came  into  the  vestry,  and  said,  "  Will  you  let 
me  read  prayers  this  evening  ?  "  To  this  the  vicar  gladly 
assented  ;  so  he  put  on  the  surplice  for  the  first  time  after 
several  months,  and  went  into  church  with  us. 

The  fact  of  his  reading  prayers  again,  and  more  espe- 
cially the  manner  in  which  he  did  it,  attracted  attention. 


LAYING  ASIDE  EVERY  IV EIGHT." 


261 


The  earnest  tone  and  meaning  he  threw  into  the  words  of 
the  prayers,  and  more  particularly  into  the  psalm,  pene- 
trated much  deeper.  One  lady  knelt  down  and  began  to 
pray  for  herself  in  the  pew ;  others  were  riveted  as  by  the 
power  of  the  Spirit.  All  through  the  sermon,  I  felt  that 
the  Lord  was  working  among  the  people,  and  at  the  close 
they  were  loth  to  go.  Many  more  remained  in  the  after- 
meeting  than  we  could  speak  to  ;  manifest  was  the  power  of 
the  Spirit,  and  much  good  was  done. 

There  was  great  joy  in  the  little  village  that  night,  and 
for  several  days  following  the  Lord  wrought  among  the 
people.  Many  lasting  mementos  remain  of  this  week's 
ministry,  and  of  the  weeks  which  followed. 

Our  reticent  friend  was  changed  indeed,  and  imme- 
diately gave  up  the  tandem  and  the  pipes.  I  do  not  think 
he  has  ever  smoked  since ;  he  has  had  something  better 
to  do. 

Smoking  is  an  idle  custom,  and  too  often  enslaves  its 
votaries;  and  even  if  it  does  not  become  a  dominant  habit, 
it  certainly  teaches  no  lesson  of  self-denial.  A  Christian 
man  needs  not  to  seek  relief  in  any  such  way.  It  is  said  to 
be  very  soothing  when  a  man  is  in  any  trouble  or  anxiety  ; 
if  so,  in  this  respect  it  may  be  said  to  be  next  door  to  the 
beer-barrel,  or  to  the  use  of  spirits.  If  one  man  may  soothe 
his  feelings  with  this  narcotic,  another  may  stimulate  them, 
when  he  is  low  and  cheerless,  with  alcohol.  The  Apostle 
James  says,  "  Is  any  merry,  let  him  sing  psalms."  He  does 
not  say.  Is  any  afflicted  or  low,  let  him  smoke  and  drink  ! 
No ;  "  let  him  pray,"  and  depend  upon  God.  Many  a  les- 
son which  might  be  learned  from  God  on  our  knees,  is  let 
slip  altogether  because  we  think  there  is  no  harm  in  reliev- 
ing ourselves  by  self-indulgence.  The  flesh  is  a  monster 
which  is  never  appeased,  much  less  subdued,  by  gratifica- 
tion. 


262 


FROM  DEATH  IXTO  LIFE. 


Our  friend  put  away  the  smoking,  and  sold  his  pipes 
of  various  kinds,  which  must  have  cost  a  considerable 
sum,  for  he  realized  eighty  pounds  by  them.  this 
amount,  and  some  addition,  he  was  able  to  put  stained 
glass  windows  into  the  already  beautiful  church  in  which  he 
received  his  blessing.  This  suitable  thank-offering  was  a 
lasting  memorial  of  his  gratitude,  besides  being  an  example 
to  others,  not  only  to  give  their  hearts  to  God,  but  also  to 
give  up  their  besetments,  whatever  they  might  be,  and  in 
doing  so  be  free  for  God's  service. 

This  young  man  soon  after  was  removed  to  a  more 
arduous  sphere,  and  carried  great  blessing  thither ;  as  he 
did  also  when  he  went  from  thence  to  a  yet  more  influential 
and  important  place  Though  now  laid  aside  by  ill  health, 
he  sends  tracts  and  writes  letters  to  many,  and  so  continues 
to  be,  in  the  hand  of  the  Lord,  the  means  of  winning  souls ; 
and  in  addition  to  this,  sets  an  example  of  a  holy  and  godly 
life. 

Another  litde  incident  I  must  notice  here,  ^^"hile  I  was 
still  working  in  this  place,  I  received  a  letter  from  home, 
telling  me  that  they  were  all  well,  and  very  happy  in  the 
country,  but  that  they  wanted  me  back  again,  and  thought 
I  had  been  away  quite  long  enough.  Besides  this,  it  was 
time  to  be  getting  summer  things,  for  which  they  would 
want  at  least  ten  pounds.  I  had  no  money  to  send  ,:  and 
though  I  might  have  asked  many  kind  friends,  I  felt  a 
difficulty  about  it.  I  do  not  think  it  was  pride.  I  had  put 
myself  and  all  my  affairs  into  God  s  hands  ;  and  though  I 
was  not  ashamed  to  tell  our  circumstances  to  any  one  who 
asked  me,  I  made  it  a  rule  not  to  mention  my  troubles  or 
wants  to  any  but  the  Lord.  I  read  the  cheerful  parts  of  my 
letter  at  breakfast,  and  kept  the  other  till  I  went  upstairs. 
There,  I  spread  the  letter  on  the  bed  at  which  I  knelt,  and 
read  to  tlie  Lord  the  part  that  troubled  me.    I  was  praying 


'WILL  YOU  ACCEPT  THATP* 

about  it.  isr'-cn  there  ca.-ne  a  Icnoik  i:  -.he  i ir.i  be 

I  h.id  time  :o  5iv;- Come  in.''  rfir  frie'i  h   e-- 

Scei.-.z  zci.  ozi  nij  ic.iees.  he  a.jolG'jized  :hr  i-rr:  h:-^-. 
,in  hii  5hv  TCij  put  a  te'-cou.-.d  r.ote  i.-.:.'.,  "v  h^.l.  -.a;. 
*'I  am  aaharr.ed  it  is  roc  more  :  h'::  xhl  -jvi  ir.r.fiz 
With  this,  he  niade  f^r  the  door:  h.:  I  d--:a;--d  hi" 
order  to  sho-s-  him  the  part  of  my  ier.er  I  -_id  - rea 
themomir:^.  I  said.  "I  -  -.it  reaii-j  i:  :h;  h.:rl- 
look,  wr.iie  I  ^a.;  itiii  ori  raj  icr.e^?.  He  i'^a:  v-ir.;  ;  :a 
the  ana-wer.    It  is  ±e  exact  r^ra  I  ■xrar.a     d:  r.-.:  ip'h-, 

once," 


CHAPTER  XXX. 

1855. 

T  was  time  now  to  be  returning  southward  and 
homeward ;  which  I  did  by  several  stages,  stop- 
ping to  preach  in  various  places  on  the  way.  At 
length,  I  reached  the  village  in  Cornwall,  where 
my  family  were  lodging  in  the  farmhouse  I  have  already 
mentioned. 

Here,  the  two  clergymen  were  rather  afraid  of  me,  and 
avoided  asking  me  to  preach  in  the  church.  They  had 
both  been  converted  (or,  at  least,  so  they  said)  more  than  a 
year ;  but  instead  of  working  for  God,  they  were  bent  on 
Romanizing.  One  of  them  said  that  there  was  no  salvation 
in  the  Church  of  England ;  and  the  other  showed  me  a 
sealed  letter  he  had  in  his  desk,  which,  he  said,  he  "  dared 
not  open."  It  was  from  a  brother  of  his,  who  went  to 
Rome,  and  contained  his  reasons  for  so  doing.  "  Ah,"  he 
said,  "  if  I  open  that  letter,  I  feel  sure  that  I  shall  have  to 
go  too."  This  fascinating  dread  was  upon  him  till  he  really 
did  go,  six  months  afterwards.  I  tried  to  deter  these  men 
from  the  erroneous  step  they  were  contemplating,  by  getting 
them  into  active  work  for  the  Lord.    Sometimes  I  preached 


"LEWD  FELLOWS,  OF  THE  BASER  SORT."  265 


in  this  church,  but  more  often  in  the  open  air.  I  am  sorry 
to  say  my  friends  were  but  half-hearted  in  their  co-operation, 
so  that  after  a  few  weeks  I  left,  and  went  to  the  west. 

On  my  way  thither,  a  clerg}'man,  who  happened  to  be 
inside  the  coach,-  gave  me  his  card,  and  then  came  outside 
for  the  purpose  of  talking  with  me.  He  asked  me  if  I  would 
take  charge  of  his  church  and  parish  for  six  weeks.  I  said 
I  would,  but  could  not  do  so  for  a  week  or  two.  We  agreed 
as  to  time,  and  on  the  promised  Saturday  I  arrived  at  the 
place. 

I  walked  there  from  a  neighbouring  town,  having  several 
calls  to  make  on  the  way,  and^  left  my  luggage  to  follow  by 
the  van.  In  the  evening,  about  eight  o'clock,  I  went  down  to 
meet  this  conveyance,  and  tell  the  man  where  to  deliver  me 
bag.  I  found  a  crowd  of  people  in  front  of  the  inn  where 
the  van  stopped,  and  heard  the  driver  say,  in  reply  to  some 
question,  "  I've  not  got  him,  but  I've  got  his  bag."  "\\Tiere 
is  he  ?  "  said  a  voice.    "  I  don't  know,"  one  said,  "  but 

I  saw  a  queer  little  chap  go  into  Mrs.  M  's  house." 

"That's  the  place,"  said  the  driver;  "that's  where  I'm 
a-going  to  take  his  bag.  Come  on,  and  let's  see  if  he'll 
have  it." 

I  went  in  and  out  among  the  crowd,  as  it  was  dark, 
asking  questions,  and  found  out  that  they  "  would  like  to 
duck  the  fellow  if  they  could  catch  him  ; "  they  "  did  not 
want  any  such  Revivalist  chap  as  that  amongst  them,"  and 
so  forth.  They  were  greatly  excited,  and  wondered  which 
road  he  was  likely  to  come,  for  they  would  go  to  meet  him. 
Some  one  asked,  "  Whsit  is  he  like  ?  "  One  answered,  "Oh, 
he  is  a  rum-looking  little  fellow  that  stoops.  I  should  know 
him  again  anj-vvhere."  Hearing  this,  I  held  up  my  head 
like  a  soldier,  in  order  to  look  as  large  as  possible,  and 
waited  about  till  they  dispersed. 

Then  I  joined  a  young  man,  and,  talking  with  him. 


266 


FROM  DEA  TH  INTO  LIFE. 


ascertained  what  it  was  all  about.  I  passed  the  house  where 
I  was  to  lodge,  for  I  saw  that  the  people  were  watching  the 
door.  I  came  back  among  them,  and,  pointing  to  the  door, 
said,  "  Is  that  where  he  stops  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  one  replied,  "  he  is  there.  The  man  brought 
his  bag  and  left  it ;  he  is  there,  sure  enough." 

I  said,  "Let  us  go  in  and  see  him;  come  along — 
come  ! " 

So  saying,  I  made  for  the  door  and  knocked,  beckoning 
to  the  others  to  follow  me  ;  but  they  would  not  do  so.  As 
soon  as  the  door  was  opened  I  went  in,  and  the  landlady 
speedily  closed  it  after  me,  saying,  "  I  am  glad  you  are 
come.  How  did  you  manage  to  get  here?  I  have  sent 
word  to  the  constable  to  look  out  for  you,-and  he  is  still 
watching  somewhere." 

"Why,"  I  asked,  "what  is  it  all  about?  What  is  the 
matter  ?  " 

"  Why,  some  of  the  lads  here  say,  that  if  they  could 
catch  you,  they  would  give  you  a  good  ducking  in  the 
pond." 

"Indeed!"  I  said.  "Then  I  don't  think  I  will  give 
them  that  pleasure  to-night."  So,  sitting  down  by  the  fire, 
I  made  myself  comfortable,  and  after  supper  went  to  bed. 

In  the  morning,  while  at  breakfast,  I  saw  a  number  of 
men  playing  in  the  open  space  in  fiont  of  the  house. 
Some  were  tossing  pence,  some  playing  at  ball  and  other 
games,  while  many  were  standing  about  smoking,  with 
their  hands  in  their  pockets. 

"There,  that's  the  way  they  spend  their  Sundays  in  this 
place,"  said  the  landlady. 

After  watching  them  from  the  window  for  a  litde  time,  I 
put  on  my  hat  and  went  out,  and  told  them  "it  was  time 
to  go  home  and  get  ready  for  church  ;  that  would  be  far 
better,"  I  said,  "  than  playing  like  this  on  Sunday.    It  is  a 


PELTED!  267 

disgrace  to  men  like  you— married  men,  too,  with  families  ! 
It  would  be  bad  enough  if  you  were  a  parcel  of  boys.  I  am 
quite  ashamed  of  you  !  " 

They  slunk  away  one  by  one,  and  I  walked  down  the 
street  to  look  about  me,  and  to  see  the  schoolroom,  where 
there  was  no  school ;  but  I  intended  to  have  a  prayer- 
meeting  there  in  the  evening,  after  the  service.  I  put  up  a 
notice  to  this  effect,  and  then  came  back  to  my  lodgings,  till 
it  was  near  church-time,  when  I  set  out,  arrayed  in  my 
gown  and  bands,  for  the  sacred  edifice. 

"  On  the  way  there  I  observed  stones  flying  past  me  in 
every  direction  ;  but  I  walked  on,  till  at  last  I  was  struck  on 
the  cheek  with  a  patch  of  muddy  clay  which  was  thrown  at 
me.  There  was  an  universal  shout  of  laughter  when  the 
men  and  boys  saw  that  I  had  been  hit.  I  put  my  hand  to 
the  place,  and  found  that  the  pat  of  clay  was  sticking  to  my 
cheek,  so  I  pressed  it  there,  hoping,  by  the  help  of  my  whis- 
kers, that  it  would  remain.  I  said  to  the  crowd,  who  were 
laughing  at  me,  "  That  was  not  a  bad  shot.  Now,  if  you 
come  to  church  you  shall  see  it  there ;  I  will  keep  it  on  as 
long  as  I  can."  So  saying,  I  walked  on  amidst  the  jeers  of 
the  people. 

When  I  arrived  at  the  vestry,  the  clerk  was  in  great 
trouble  when  he  knew  what  had  happened.  He  said,  "  Do 
let  me  wash  the  mud  off,  sir." 

"  Oh,  no,"  I  replied,  "  I  mean  to  show  that  all  day,  if  I 
can." 

During  the  morning  service,  at  which  there  were  about 
fifty  people  present,  I  succeeded  in  keeping  on  my  mud- 
patch,  and  returned  to  dinner  with  the  same. 

In  the  afternoon  I  said  that  I  would  have  a  service  for 
children,  as  there  was  no  Sunday  school,  to  which  about 
twenty  came.  Before  addressing  them,  seeing  that  they 
were  intently  looking  at  the  patch  on  my  cheek,  I  told  them 


268  FROM  DEATH  INTO  LIFE. 

how  it  came  there,  and  that  I  intended  to  keep  it  on  all 
through  the  evening  service. 

This  news  spread  over  the  whole  place,  and  the  con- 
sequence was  that  such  numbers  of  people  came  out  of 
curiosity,  that  the  church  was  filled  to  overflowing.  I 
preached  without  any  reference  to  what  had  taken  place, 
and  succeeded  in  gaining  the  attention  of  the  people ;  so 
that  after  the  service  I  said  I  would  have  a  prayer-meeting 
in  the  schoolroom.  We  had  the  place  crammed,  and  not  a 
few  found  peace.  I  announced  that  I  would  preach  again 
the  next  evening. 

A  revival  soon  broke  out  in  that  place,  and  the  crowds 
who  came  to  the  meetings  were  so  great,  that  we  had  as  many 
people  outside  the  large  schoolroom  as  there  were  in. 

At  the  end  of  the  six  weeks  the  new  vicar  returned,  and 
I  was  able  to  hand  over  the  parish  to  him,  with  a  full 
church,  three  Bible-classes,  and  a  large  Sunday-school. 
This  I  did,  thanking  God  for  the  measure  of  success  and 
blessing  He  had  given  to  my  efforts  in  that  populous  and 
wicked.place. 

After  I  had  left  I  received  a  letter  from  some  of  the 
parishioners,  asking  me  what  I  should  like  to  have  as  a  testi- 
monial of  their  gratitude  and  regard ;  that  they  had  had  a 
penny  collection  amongst  themselves,  which  amounted  to 
several  pounds,  and  now  they  were  waiting  to  know  what  I 
should  like  ! 

I  wrote  to  tell  them  that  nothing  would  please  me  better 
than  a  service  of  plate  for  communion  with  the  sick.  They 
bought  this,  and  had  a  suitable  inscription  engraved,  and 
then  placed  it  under  a  glass  shade  in  the  Town  Hall,  on  a 
certain  day  for  inspection.  Hundreds  of  people  came  to 
see  the  result  of  their  penny  contributioa  After  this  public 
exhibition,  the  communion  service  was  sent  to  me  with  a 
letter,  written  by  a  leading  man  in  the  place,  saying,  "  I  was 


THE  VICAR'S  LETTER. 


269 


one  of  the  instigators  of  the  opposition  to  your  work  here ; 
but  the  very  first  evening  you  spoke  in  the  schoolroom 
I  was  outside  Ustening,  and  was  shot  through  the  window. 
The  word  hit  my  heart  Hke  a  hammer,  without  breaking  a 
pane  of  glass.  Scores  and  scores  of  people  will  bless  God 
to  all  eternity  that  you  ever  came  amongst  us." 

The  revival  in  this  proverbially  wicked  place,  created 
such  a  stir  that  the  newspapers  took  it  up,  and  thought  for 
once  that  I  "  was  in  the  right  place,  and  doing  a  good 
work  !  "  The  member  for  the  borough  sent  me  twenty-five 
pounds,  "  begging  my  acceptance  of  the  trifle."  Who 
asked  him,  or  why  he  sent  it,  I  do  not  know  ;  but  the  Lord 
knew  that  we  needed  help.  More  than  this,  the  vicar  of 
the  adjoining  parish,  who  used  to  be  very  friendly  with  me 
in  my  unconverted  days,  but  who  had  declared  his  oppo- 
sition pretty  freely  since  that  time,  sent  me  a  letter  one 
Sunday  morning  by  private  hand,  to  be  delivered  to  me 
personally.  This  I  duly  received ;  but  expecting  that  it  was 
one  of  his  usual  letters,  and  also  knowing  that  I  had  visited 
some  persons  in  his  parish  who  were  anxious,  I  thought  I 
would  not  open  it  till  IMonday,  and  so  placed  >t  on  the 
mantel-piece.  A  friend  who  happened  to  come  in,  noticing 
it  there,  said,  "I  see  you  have  a  letter  from  the  Prebendary ; 
I  dare  say  he  is  angry  with  you." 

"  I  suppose  he  is,"  I  said ;  "  but  it  will  keep  till  to- 
morrow ;  and  I  do  not  care  to  be  troubled  with  his  thoughts 
to-day." 

"  Oh,  do  let  me  open  it,"  said  my  visitor ;  "  I  shall  not 
be  here  to-morrow,  and  I  should  so  like  to  hear  what  he 
has  to  say." 

With  my  consent  he  opened  it  and  read,  "  Dear  old 
Haslam,  you  have  done  more  good  in  that  part  of  my  parish 
where  you  are  working,  in  a  few  weeks,  than  I  have  done 
for  years.    I  enclose  you  a  cheque  for  the  amount  of  tithes 


270 


FROM  DEA  TH  INTO  LIFE. 


coming  from  there.  The  Lord  bless  you  more  and  more  ! 
Pray  for  me  ! " 

It  was  a  cheque  for  thirty-seven  pounds.  The  next 
morning  I  went  over  to  see  my  old  friend  newly-found,  and 
to  thank  him  in  person  for  his  generous  gift.  Poor  man,  I 
found  him  very  low  and  depressed,  and  quite  ready  and 
willing  that  I  should  talk  and  pray  with  him.  I  sincerely 
hope  that  he  became  changed  before  I  left  the  neighbour- 
hood, but  I  never  heard  that  he  declared  himself. 

By  this  time,  while  I  was  still  in  Tregoney,  Mr.  Aitken 
had  found  his  way  to  the  village  where  my  family  were 
lodging,  and  he  was  preaching  at  the  church  with  his  usual 
power  and  effect.  Night  after  night  souls  were  awakened 
and  saved.  The  vicar's  wife  was  in  a  towering  rage  of 
opposition.  Poor  woman  !  she  declared  that  she  "would 
rather  go  to  Rome  than  be  converted ;  "  and  to  Rome  she 
went,  but  remained  as  worldly  as  ever. 

It  matters  very  little  whether  unconverted  people  join 
the  Church  of  Rome  or  not;  they  are  sure  to  be  lost  for 
ever  if  they  die  in  their  unconverted  state  :  for  nothing 
avails  for  eternal  salvation  but  faith  in  the  Lord  Jesus 
Christ. 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 


1856. 

FTER  the  mission  which  Mr.  Aitken  had  held, 
people  came  out  so  decidedly,  that  the  vicar  and 
curate,  who  had  all  along  kept  aloof,  doubting, 
fell  back  into  a  kind  of  revulsion,  and  began  to 
read  and  lend  Romish  books.  Eventually,  they  themselves 
decided  to  join  the  Church  of  Rome.  Whether  they  were 
ever  really  converted  or  not,  I  cannot  tell.  I  thought  and 
hoped  they  were,  but  they  seldom  stood  out  on  the  Lord's 
side.  They  certainly  had  light,  and  may  have  had  some 
experience.  At  any  rate,  they  chose  such  a  harlot  as  the 
Church  of  Rome  for  the  object  of  their  love,  instead  of  Christ 
Himself. 

I  loved  the  curate.  He  was  the  man  who  had  the 
unopened  letter  in  his  desk,*  of  which  he  harboured  such  a 
dread.  Sad  to  say,  he  ended  by  falling  away  at  last.  Poor 
man  !  he  went  over  to  Rome,  and  never  held  up  his  head 
any  more.  Evidently  disappointed,  and  ashamed  to  come 
back,  he  lingered  on  for  some  months,  and  then  died. 


See  page  264. 


272 


FROM  DBA  TH  INTO  LIFE. 


Not  long  after  his  secession,  we  accidentally  met  in  a 
quiet  lane,  in  another  part  of  the  county,  where  I  was 
walking  for  meditation.  Perhaps  he  was  led  there  for  the 
same  purpose.  Meeting  so  unexpectedly,  there  was  no 
opportunity  to  evade  one  another.  I  felt  a  trembling  come 
over  me  at  seeing  him,  and  he  was  none  the  less  moved. 
We  held  each  other's  hands  in  silence,  till  at  last  I  said, 
"How  are  you?    I  love  you  still." 

"  I  cannot  stand  it ! "  he  said  ;  and  snatching  his  hand 
out  of  mine,  he  ran  away. 

I  never  saw  him  again,  but  mourned  for  him  till  he  died. 
I  cannot  help  thinking  that  he  is  safe,  and  that  he  died  in  a 
faith  more  scriptural  than  that  of  the  Church  of  Rome. 

Why  do  men  secede,  and  break  their  own  hearts,  and 
the  hearts  of  those  who  love  them  ?  Rome  seems  to  cast  a 
kind  of  spell  upon  the  conscience,  fascinating  its  victims 
much  as  the  gaze  of  the  serpent  is  said  to  hold  a  bird,  till  it 
falls  into  its  power ;  or  as  a  light  attracts  a  moth,  till  it  flies 
into  it,  to  its  own  destruction.  Such  seceders  mourn  and 
dread  the  step  ;  pray  about  it,  think  and  think,  till  they  are 
bewildered  and  harassed ;  and  then,  in  a  fit  of  desperation, 
go  off  to  some  Romish  priest  to  be  received.  A  man  who 
had  an  honourable  position,  a  work  and  responsibility,  sud- 
denly becomes  a  nonentity,  barely  welcomed,  and  certainly 
suspected. 

Romish  people  compass  sea  and  land  to  make  prose- 
lytes ;  and  after  they  have  gained  them,  they  are  afraid  of 
them,  for  their  respective  antecedents  are  so  different,  that 
it  is  impossible  for  them  to  think  together.  They  get  the 
submission  of  a  poor  deluded  pervert,  but  he  gets  nothing 
in  return  from  them  but  a  fictitious  salvation.  They  gain 
him  :  but  he  has  lost  the  kind  regard  and  sympathy  of 
friends  he  had  before,  and  with  it  all  that  once  was  dear  to 
him  ;  and  he  voluntarily  forfeits  all  this  upon  the  bare  self- 


PRIESTCRAFT. 


273 


assertion  of  a  system  which  claims  his  implicit  obedience. 
The  poor  pervert  is  required  to  give  over  his  will,  his  con- 
science, and  his  deepest  feelings  to  the  keeping  of  his  so- 
called  "  priest "  or  to  the  Church,  and  is  expected  to  go 
away  unburdened  and  at  peace.  Some  there  are,  it  is  true, 
who  actually  declare  that  they  have  peace  by  this  means  ; 
but  what  peace  it  is,  and  of  what  kind,  I  know  not. 

Supposing  that  I  was  in  debt  and  anxiety,  and  a  man 
who  had  no  money,  but  plenty  of  assurance  and  brass, 
came  to  me  and  sympathized  in  my  trouble,  saying,  "  Do 
not  fear — trust  me ;  I  will  bear  your  burden,  and  pay  off 
your  debt" — if  the  manner  of  the  man  was  sufficiently 
assuring,  it  would  lift  up  the  cloud  of  anxiety  and  distress ; 
but,  for  all  that,  the  penniless  man  would  not,  and  could 
not,  pay  my  debt.  I  might  fancy  he  had  done  or  would  do 
so  ;  and  then,  when  it  was  too  late,  the  debt,  with  accumu- 
lated interest,  would  fall  on  me,  to  my  overwhelming  ruin, 
even  though  I  had  been  ever  so  free  from  anxiety  before. 
So  it  is  with  these  deluded  ones,  who  go  to  the  priest 
instead  of  to  Christ,  and  take  his  absolution  instead  of 
Christ's  forgiveness. 

Any  one  who  carefully  reads  the  Word  of  God  may  see 
that  the  Church  of  Rome  has  no  such  priesthood  as  she 
claims,  nor  power  to  forgive  sins,  as  she  professes  to  do.  The 
whole  supposition  is  based  on  a  misunderstanding  of  the 
text,  "  Whose  soever  sins  ye  remit,  they  are  remitted  unto 
them ;  and  whose  soever  sins  ye  retain,  they  are  retained  " 
(John  XX.  23). 

The  disciples  (some  of  them  not  apostles)  who  received 
this  commission  or  privilege,  never  understood  that  they 
were  by  these  words  (men  and  women  together)  empowered 
to  be  absolving  priests.  Even  the  very  apostles  never  knew 
that  they  had  any  such  power ;  and  it  is  certain  they  never 
exercised  it     They  were  perfectly  innocent  of  being  priests 


274 


FROM  DEA  TH  INTO  LIFE. 


after  the  Romish  type,  and  never  dreamed  of  offering  a 
propitiatory  sacrifice.  They  simply  believed  that  Christ 
had  completed  the  work  of  propitiation  once  for  all ;  and 
that  there  is  now  no  more  sacrifice  for  sin — that  Christ  only 
can  forgive  sins.  Therefore  in  the  words  of  St.  John  we 
are  told,  that  "  if  any  man  sin  (apostles  and  people  alike), 
we  have  an  advocate  with  the  Father,  Jesus  Christ  the 
righteous;  and  He  is  the  propitiation  for  our  sins"  (i  John 

ii.  1,  2). 

The  apostles  and  early  Christians  never  understood 
that  the  power  of  the  keys  meant  the  e.xercise  of  mere 
priestly  authority,  neither  was  the  doctrine  known  for  several 
centuries  after  their  time ;  therefore  we  may  be  sure  that 
the  peace  which  perverts  have,  if  it  professes  to  come  from 
that  source,  is  a  delusion.  No  true  remission  or  peace  is, 
or  can  be  given,  but  by  direct  and  personal  transaction  with 
Christ  Himself 

I  am  perfectly  convinced  that  the  Epistles  to  the  Romans 
and  the  Galatians  are  the  answer  to  all  the  pretences  of  the 
Church  of  Rome,  and  that  a  man  who  will  not  read  and 
follow  them  deserves  to  be  misled.  God  is  perfectly  justified 
and  clear  on  this  point. 

During  that  winter  six  of  my  friends  joined  the  Church 
of  Rome.  One  I  have  already  told  about,  who  died,  I  am 
sure,  from  grief  and  disappointment.*  Another  became 
bigoted,  and  with  a  sullen,  dogged  pertinacity,  set  himself 
to  work  for  Rome,  looking  very  miserable  all  the  time, 
although  he  used  once  to  be  happy  in  the  Lord's  work. 
The  others,  without  exception,  went  back  into  the  world, 
and  made  no  secret  of  their  conformity  with  it,  its  ways, 
and  fashions. 


•  See  page  271. 


A  WORCESTERSHIRE  MISSION.  275 


This  was  a  time  of  trouble  in  more  respects  than  one. 
These  secessions  to  Rome  brought  great  discredit  upon  the 
work,  and  especially  on  the  effort  to  promote  Catholic 
truth,  and  higher  Church  life.  I  found  my  own  refuge  and 
comfort  was  in  working  for  God,  and  therefore  went  out  on 
mission  work  whenever  and  wherever  I  could. 

Early  in  the  spring  of  this  year  I  went  on  a  mission  to 
Worcestershire,  and  there  the  Lord  vouchsafed  a  great 
blessing,  which  has  more  or  less  continued  to  this  day; 
though  I  grieve  to  say  the  present  vicar  has  no  sympathy 
with  it.  The  work  is  still  carried  on  in  an  Iron  Room, 
out  of  church  hours,  by  people  who  continue  to  go  to 
church. 

The  vicar  of  that  time  asked  me  to  go  and  visit  a 
farmer's  wife,  who  was  under  deep  conviction,  and  wished 
to  see  me.  I  did  so,  and  as  we  approached  the  door 
(which  was  open)  the  first  thing  we  heard  was  this  in- 
dividual saying,  in  a  very  high-pitched  voice,  "  Con- 
found " 

Seeing  us,  she  suddenly  stopped.  "  Go  on  with  your 
text,"  said  the  vicar,  quietly,  "  '  Confounded  be  all  they 
that  serve  graven  images ; '  is  that  what  you  mean  ?  " 

"  No,"  she  replied ;  "  come  in,  I  am  so  wretched  that  I 
don't  know  what  to  do  with  myself ;  it  has  made  me  cross. 
Do  come  in  and  pray  with  me." 

We  at  once  consented ;  and  on  pointing  her  to  Jesus, 
she  found  peace.  Not  content  with  praising  God  alone, 
she  opened  her  house  for  a  meeting  for  the  people  in  the 
neighbourhood.  This  being  situated  on  the  confines  of  the 
parish,  brought  us  into  collision  with  the  rector  of  the  next 
parish.  He  was  most  indignant  at  our  coming  (as  he 
said),  "to  entice  his  people  away." 

I  tried  my  best  to  conciliate  this  gentleman,  but  nothing 


276 


FROM  DEATH  INTO  LIFE. 


would  do,  particularly  when  he  heard  that  I  was  thinking 
of  settling  down  in  the  district.  This  plan  was  however 
frustrated  in  an  unexpected  manner,  and  I  was  not  permitted 
to  remain  there. 

One  day,  when  I  was  praying  about  the  matter,  a  letter 
was  put  into  my  hand  from  a  lady  who  had  been  asking 
the  Lord  for  nearly  six  months  that  I  might  be  appointed 
to  her  late  husband's  church.  She  had  applied  to  Lord 
Palmerston,  who  was  the  patron,  and  though  she  had  re- 
ceived no  answer,  yet  she  had  continued  to  pray. 

At  last  there  came  a  courteous  letter  from  his  lordship, 
apologizing  for  having  delayed  his  reply,  adding  that  he 
"  had  mislaid  the  application  of  her  nominee ;  if  she  would 
oblige  him  with  the  name  and  address  of  this  person,  the 
appointment  should  be  made  out  immediately."  She  gave  my 
name  and  address,  and  sent  his  letter  on  to  me.  I  imme- 
diately wrote  to  his  lordship,  saying  that  I  had  not  applied 
for  the  living,  nor  did  I  want  it ;  but,  for  all  that,  I  received 
by  return  of  post  the  nomination ;  and  actually,  it  was  to 
go  back  to  the  diocese  of  Exeter  !  I  did  not  think  the 
Bishop  would  institute  me,  as  I  had  committed  a  great 
many  irregularities  since  his  lordship  had  taken  off  my 
harness.    But  he  did. 

Somehow  I  was  unwilling  to  go  to  this  living,  but  was 
put  into  it  in  spite  of  myself.  Here  I  had  a  good  house, 
garden,  and  church,  provided  for  me,  with  so  much  a  year. 
I  wondered  whether  God  was  tired  of  me  !  He  had  pro- 
vided for  me  and  my  family  during  the  past  year  wondrously, 
and  I  began  to  like  "living  by  faith,"  and  trusting  in  Him 
only.  I  have  great  doubts  whether  this  appointment  was 
altogether  in  accordance  with  God's  will.  Anyway,  I  had 
very  little  liberty  or  success  in  preaching,  and  could  not 
settle  down  to  work  with  any  energy. 

In  the  beginning  of  the  summer,  as  usual,  I  had  my 


HAY  FEVER. 


277 


attack  of  hay  fever,  which  completely  incapacitated  me, 
in  this  place  of  much  grass.  If  I  went  to  a  town  or  the 
sea-side,  it  was  well ;  but  the  moment  I  returned  to  the 
country  I  was  ill  again.  Altogether,  it  was  a  dull  and  dis- 
tressing time ;  but  God  was  preparing  me  for  a  special 
worL 


CHAPTER  XXXIL 


I8S7-8. 

HILE  meditating  upon  my  present  position,  and 
wondering  what  I  was  to  do  next,  I  received  an 
invitation  to  take  charge  of  a  district  in  another 
part  of  the  county,  near  the  sea,  which  suited 
my  health.  Here  there  was  a  large  population,  which  gave 
scope  for  energetic  action;  and,  moreover,  the  people 
were  careless  and  Godless,  and,  as  such,  were  not  pre- 
occupied with  other  systems.  So  I  thought  it  was  the  very 
place  in  which  I  could  begin  to  preach,  and  go  on  to  prove 
the  power  of  the  Gospel. 

With  the  invitation,  I  received  an  exaggerated  account 
of  the  wickedness  of  the  people,  and  was  told  that  the 
thinking  part  of  them  leant  towards  infidelity,  and  that 
some  of  them  were  actually  banded  together  in  an  infidel 
club.  All  this,  however,  did  not  deter  me  from  going,  but 
rather  stirred  me  up  so  much  the  more  to  try  my  lance 
against  this  gigantic  foe.  I  had  learned  before  now  to 
regard  all  difficulties  in  my  work  as  the  Lord's,  and  not 
mine ;  and  that,  though  they  might  be  greater  than  I  could 
siumount,  they  were  not  too  great  for  Him. 


A  CORNISH  SEA-PORT. 


279 


There  were  two  large  iron  factories  here,  besides 
shipping.  Many  of  the  people  employed  were  drawn  from 
other  parts  of  England,  and  were  what  the  Cornish  call 
"  foreigners."  They  had  no  love  for  chapel  services,  or 
revivals,  and  no  sympathy  with  Cornish  views  and  customs ; 
so  not  having  a  church  to  go  to,  they  were  left  pretty  much 
to  themselves. 

With  this  attractive  sphere  before  me,  I  gave  up  my 
hving  and  work  in  the  countr)',  and  accepted  the  curacy  at 
;^i20  a  year,  with  a  house  rent  free.  My  rector  was  a  dry 
Churchman,  who  had  no  sympathy  with  me;  but  he  seemed 
glad  to  get  any  one  to  come  and  work  amongst  such  a  rough, 
and  in  some  respects  unmanageable,  set.  He  had  bought  a 
chapel  from  the  Primitive  Methodists  for  Divine  service, 
and  had  erected  schools  for  upwards  of  three  hundred 
children.  These  he  offered  me  as  my  ground  of  operation, 
promising,  with  a  written  guarantee,  that  if  I  succeeded,  he 
would  build  me  a  church,  and  endow  it  with  all  the  tithes 
of  that  portion  of  the  parish. 

Here  was  a  field  of  labour  which  required  much  prayer 
and  tact,  as  well  as  energetic  action.  In  accordance  with 
Scriptural  teaching,  "I  determined  to  know  nothing  but 
Jesus  Christ  and  Him  crucified."  I  made  up  my  mind 
that  I  would  not  begin  by  having  temperance  addresses  for 
drunkards,  or  lectures  on  the  Evidences  of  Christianity  for 
the  infidel,  but  simply  with  preaching  the  Gospel. 

One  thing  that  simplified  my  work  very  much  was  the 
fact,  that  the  people  were  spiritually  dead.  I  used  to  tell 
them,  that  in  this  free  country  ever)'  man  is  accounted 
innocent  till  he  is  proved  to  be  guilty,  but  that  in  the  Bible 
every  man  is  guilty  before  God  till  he  is  pardoned,  and 
dead  till  he  is  brought  to  life.  In  one  sense  it  does  not 
matter  very  much  whether  a  man  is  an  infidel,  a  drunkard, 
or  anything  else,  if  he  is  dead  in  trespasses  and  sins.  It  is 
13 


28o  FROM  DEA  TH  INTO  LIFE. 

of  very  little  consequence  in  what  coloured  raiment  a  corpse 
is  shrouded  ;  it  remains  a  corpse  still. 

Taking  this  position  positively,  I  avoided  much  religious 
controversy,  to  the  disappointment  of  many  eager  dis- 
putants, who  longed  to  ventilate  their  views.  I  told  them 
plainly,  that  whether  they  were  right  or  wrong,  my  business 
was  with  the  salvation  of  souls,  and  my  one  desire  was  to 
rescue  the  lost  by  bringing  them  to  Christ. 

Hitherto  I  had  been  to  places  where  the  Lord  had 
previously  prepared  the  hearts  of  the  people,  and  therefore 
it  had  been  my  joy  to  see  a  revival  spring  up,  as  if  sponta- 
neously ;  that  is,  without  the  ordinary  preparation  by  the 
people  of  the  place.  These  were  extraordinary  manifesta- 
tions of  God's  power  and  love ;  and  they  showed  me  what 
He  could  and  would  do.  Now  that  I  was  somewhat  more 
intelligent  on  the  subject,  He  sent  me  forth  to  prepare  and 
work  for  similar  results. 

Hayle  was  to  all  appearance  a  very  barren  soil,  and  the 
people  I  had  to  labour  amongst  were  greater  and  mightier 
than  myself  They  already  had  possession  of  the  ground, 
and  were  perfectly  content  with  their  own  way.  Moreover, 
they  did  not  desire  any  change,  and  were  ready  even  to 
resist  and  oppose  every  effort  which  was  designed  to 
ameliorate  their  condition,  or  to  change  their  lives.  In 
this  undertaking  I  knew  and  understood  that  without  prayer 
and  dependence  upon  God  to  work  in  me  and  by  me,  my 
mission  would  be  altogether  unavailing.  I  therefore  looked 
about,  and  found  some  Christians  who  consented  to  unite 
in  pleading  for  an  outpouring  of  the  Holy  Spirit.  We 
agreed  to  pray  in  private,  and  also  met  together  frequently 
during  the  week  for  united  prayer.  Finding  that  many  of 
the  petitions  offered  were  vague  and  diffuse,  I  endeavoured 
to  set  before  those  assembled  a  definite  object  of  prayer.  I 
told  them  that  the  work  was  not  ours  but  the  Lord's,  and  that 


REPENTANCE  AND  FAITH. 


281 


He  was  willing  and  ready  to  accomplish  it,  but  that  He  must 
be  inquired  of  concerning  the  work  of  His  hands.  Also, 
in  order  that  our  prayers  should  be  intelligent  and  united, 
I  put  before  them  the  fact,  that  the  people  we  had  to  work 
amongst  were  lost ;  not  that  they  would  be  lost  by-and-by  if 
they  died  in  their  sins ;  but  that  they  were  actually  lest 
now.  It  is  true  that  many  were  quite  ignorant  of  the  way 
of  salvation,  and  were  also  unconscious  of  the  power  of  the 
enemy  who  held  them  captive ;  and  besides,  they  loved 
their  captivity  too  well ;  but  all  this  would  be  overcome  in 
a  moment,  when  they  were  once  enlightened  by  the  Spirit 
(in  answer  to  prayer)  to  see  and  feel  themselves  lost.  No 
one  could  be  more  ignorant  than  the  jailor  at  Philippi,  but 
as  soon  as  he  was  awakened  he  cried  out,  "  What  must  I  do 
to  be  saved  ?  "  (Acts  xvi.  30). 

I  showed  them  that  the  work  we  had  to  do  was  clearly 
set  forth  in  Scripture  (Acts  xxvi.  18),  and  that  the  order  in 
which  it  was  to  be  done  was  also  made  manifest.  We  must 
not  begin  with  giving  instruction  as  if  the  people  were 
merely  ignorant ;  but  rather  by  awakening  or  opening  their 
ej'es  to  see  that  they  were  in  a  lost  and  ruined  condition. 
Then  they  would  appreciate  being  turned  "  from  darkness 
to  light,  and  from  the  power  of  Satan  unto  God,  that  they 
may  receive  forgiveness  of  sins"  (Acts  xxvi.  18).  I  strove 
earnestly  to  show  them  that  until  people  had  received  for- 
giveness of  sins,  our  work  was  not  complete.  We  made 
this  our  definite  aim,  and  prayed  about  it  with  clear  ex- 
pectation. Under  the  shadovV  and  influence  of  this  prayer, 
I  began  to  preach  to  the  people  ;  not  to  believe,  but  to 
awake  and  see  their  lost  condition ;  that  is,  to  repent,  that 
they  might  believe  the  Gospel. 

At  first  there  were  very  few  people  in  my  congregation, 
but  by  degrees  more  came,  and  listened  attentively  to  the 
Word.    After  preaching  for  four  or  five  Sundays,  I  asked 


282  FROM  DEATH  INTO  LIFE. 


the  people  during  my  sermon,  what  in  the  world  they  were 
made  of;  for  I  was  surprised  at  them  !  They  came  and 
listened  to  God's  truth,  and  yet  did  not  yield  themselves 
to  Him.  "  Are  you  wood,  or  leather,  or  stone  ?  What  are 
your  hearts  made  of,  that  God's  love  cannot  touch  or  His 
Word  break  them  ?  "  I  then  invited  the  anxious  to  remain 
for  an  after-meeting,  when  I  said  that  I  would  converse  with 
them  more  familiarly  ;  but  they  every  one  went  away. 

I  returned  to  the  vestry,  feeling  somewhat  dejected,  but 
still  hoping  for  better  days.  As  I  opened  the  door  to  go 
home,  two  men  ran  away  like  frightened  boys,  but  it  was 
too  dark  for  me  to  distinguish  who  tl>ey  were. 

The  next  morning  it  came  to  my  mind  that  I  must  go 
round  to  the  people  and  ask  them  what  they  were  thinking 
about  ?  I  had  done  so  from  the  pulpit ;  now  I  would  go 
from  house  to  house  and  do  the  same.  I  went  first  to  the 
school,  and  finding  that  several  children  were  absent,  I 
took  their  names  and  determined  to  go  after  them,  in  the 
hope  of  reaching  their  parents. 

The  first  house  I  called  at  was  a  mistake,  and  yet  it  was 

not.    I  knocked  at  the  door,  and  said,  "  Does  Mrs  W  

live  here  ?  " 

The  woman  who  opened  it  said,  "  No,  she  lives  next 
door." 

I  apologized  for  disturbing  her,  and  was  going  away, 
when  she  said,  "Will  you  not  come  in  for  a  few 
minutes?" 

I  assented,  and  going  in,  took  a  seat.  Then  I  asked 
her  name,  and  whether  she  went  to  church. 

She  replied,  "  To  be  sure  I  do.  Don't  you  see  me 
there  every  Sunday  ?  " 

"  Then,"  I  said,  "  did  you  hear  my  question  last 
evening  ?  " 

"Yes,"  she  said,  "but  I  was  afraid,  and  ashamed  to 


«/  WANT  TO  SPEAK  ABOUT  YOUR  SOUL:'  283 


stay  behind.  But  I  do  wish  to  be  saved;  I  have  been 
wretched  for  more  than  a  week." 

It  was  very  easy  to  lead  to  the  Saviour  of  sinners  one 
whose  heart  was  so  prepared.  She  soon  found  peace,  and 
became  one  of  my  most  useful  and  steadiest  helpers. 

Her  neighbour,  next  door,  was  by  no  means  so  ready  to 
receive  the  truth,  and  I  had  to  supply  another  argument 
altogether.  Eventually,  she  also  found  peace  in  believing ; 
though  not  for  some  weeks. 

From  this  house,  I  visited  several  others,  and  in  all 
of  them  had  serious  dealing  with  individuals  about  their 
souls'  salvation.  Then  I  set  off  to  see  a  man  I  had  often 
observed  in  church  ;  having  noticed  the  anxious  look  with 
which  he  always  regarded  me  during  the  sermon.  I  found 
him  at  home,  and,  on  entering  his  house,  he  said,  at  once, 
"  I  know  what  you  are  come  for.  Wait  a  little,  sir,  please 
to  sit  down and,  before  I  had  time  to  say  a  word,  he  went 
upstairs.  In  a  few  minutes  he  returned,  with  a  shilling  in 
his  hand.  "  There,"  he  said,  "  there  it  is  ;  that  is  my  con- 
tribution for  the  Indian  Mutiny  Fund." 

I  thanked  him  for  his  offering,  and  promised  that  it 
I,  should  be  given  to  the  treasurer.  "  But,"  I  added,  "  to  tell 
the  truth,  I  have  not  come  about  that,  but  to  see  you.  I 
want  to  speak  to  you  about  your  soul." 

He  sat  down,  looking,  as  I  thought,  most  unhappy. 
Then  he  said, — "  Last  night  my  mate  and  I  made  up  our 
minds  to  speak  to  you  in  the  vestry ;  but,  just  as  we  were 
coming  to  the  door,  you  opened  it,  and  we  ran  away." 

"Yes,"  I  said,  "  I  heard  you." 

"  Well,  after  that,  we  came  home,  and  prayed  the  Lord 
to  send  you  to  us  :  and  here  you  are  !  " 

"Thank  God  for  the  answer  to  piayer.  Now  then, 
what  can  I  do  for  you  ?  " 

He  told  me  that  he  was  born  of  respectable  parents  in 


284 


FROM  DEATH  INTO  LIFE. 


Germany  ;  but  that,  for  his  bad  ways  and  habits,  they  had 
sent  him  to  this  country  to  work  for  his  bread ;  that  he  had 
taken  the  pledge  several  times,  and  broken  it  again  and 
again,  though  he  had  prayed  and  done  all  he  could  think 
of;  but  it  was  to  no  purpose. 

"  If  you  had  stayed  last  night,"  I  said,  "  I  might  have 
helped  you.    How  did  you  come  to  break  your  pledge  ?  " 

"  Oh,"  he  said,  "  it  came  to  my  mind  that  when  I  signed,  I 
was  only  thinking  of  beer  and  spirits,  not  wine  ;  so  I  took 
some,  and  it  flew  to  my  head;  and  soon  I  was  as  bad  as  ever." 

"  Now,"  I  said,  "  you  have  renounced  wine  and  all ; 
have  you  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  have." 

"  Well  then,  will  you  give  your  heart  to  God  also  ?  " 

In  course  of  conversation  it  came  out,  that  this  man's 
first  impressions  were  effected  some  years  before,  by  a 
dream,  or  vision  of  Christ  on  the  cross.  He  was  passing 
by,  but,  somehow,  turned  to  look  at  it ;  when,  to  his  surprise, 
he  saw  that  the  eyes  of  the  figure  were  looking  at  him.  As 
he  approached,  the  figure  appeared  to  be  standing  on  the 
ground,  and  beckoning,  when  a  sudden  fear  came  over 
him  ;  he  stopped,  and  the  vision  faded  away.  Ever  since 
that  time,  he  had  felt  that  Jesus  was  the  Friend  he  needed  ; 
and  that  nothing  less  would  satisfy  him. 

Unfortunately,  too  many,  like  this  man,  stop  at  a 
critical  point  of  their  history;  and,  often,  the  crisis  is  not 
prolonged  for  them,  as  it  was  for  him. 

A  long  time  ago  there  was  a  sinner  arrested  by  a  similar 
vision.  He  says,  in  a  hymn  which  he  wrote,  giving  a 
description  of  it — 

"  I  saw  One  hanging  on  a  tree, 
In  agony  and  blood, 
Who  fixed  His  languid  eyes  on  me 
As  near  the  cross  I  stood." 


REMARKABLE  CONVERSIONS.  285 


He  continues, 

"  My  conscience  felt  and  owned  its  guilt ;  " 

and  when  he  did  so,  he  received  a  second  look,  which 
spoke  forgiveness  to  him,  as  .distinctly  as  the  first  look 
brought  him  under  conviction. 

I  charged  this  man  to  make  his  surrender,  and  to  own 
or  acknowledge  himself  the  sinner  for  whom  Jesus  died.  On 
doing  so,  he  obtained  forgiveness  and  peace,  and  has  since, 
by  grace,  been  enabled  to  live  a  happy,  consistent,  and 
devoted  life,  and  has  been  a  blessing  to  many  souls.  No 
sooner  had  he  found  the  Saviour,  than  immediately  he 
began  to  plead  for  and  with  his  friend  James.  I  know  not 
what  passed  between  them;  but  that  same  evening  he 
brought  him  to  me  with  a  heart  prepared  to  receive  Christ. 
We  had  only  to  point  him  to  Jesus,  and  encourage  him  to 
thank  God,  when  he  realized  the  truth  in  his  own  expe- 
rience. 

So  that  Monday  I  rejoiced  over  five  people  brought  to 
the  Lord ;  and  then  the  work  began  in  real  earnest.  Every 
week  after  that,  remarkable  conversions  took  place,  besides 
many  ordinary  ones.  Some  of  these,  including  the  one  just 
mentioned,  are  described  at  length  in  tracts,  and  are  also 
published  in  a  volume  entitled  "  Building  from  the  Top, 
and  other  Stories  ; "  but,  notwithstanding  this,  a  brief  allu- 
sion to  them  in  this  narrative  may  not  be  out  of  place,  being 
so  particularly  connected  with  the  work  here. 

A  woman  called  me  into  her  cottage  one  morning  as  I 
was  passing  by,  and  told  me  of  her  son,  a  steady  young 
man,  though  still  unconverted,  for  whom  she  had  prayed 
continually  ever  since  his  birth.  She  said,  when  he  was  a 
very  little  child,  she  heard  him  one  night  sobbing  and 
praying  in  his  room—"  O  Lord,  save  me  up  for  a  good 
boy  ! "    She  thought  this  was  in  answer  to  her  supplication ; 


286 


FROM  DEATH  INTO  LIFE. 


but  as  he  grew  up  he  became  thoughtless  and  careless,  like 
too  many  others  of  his  age. 

"Some  five  or  six  months  ago,"  she  said,  "he  had  a 
dream  or  vision,  and  saw  )'ou  so  plainly  that  he  pointed  you 
out  to  me,  among  other  clesgymen,  and  said,  '  Mother,  that 
man  is  to  be  our  minister  one  day  :  I  saw  him  a  little  time 
ago,  in  a  dream,  as  plainly  as  I  see  him  now ;  I  know  that 
is  the  man.'  We  did  not  know  who  you  were  then,  or  where 
you  came  from,  and  never  saw  you  again  till  you  came 
lately  to  this  parish  to  be  our  minister. 

"  Last  night,"  continued  the  mother,  "  after  he  returned 
from  church,  my  William  was  very  unhappy  and  restless ; 
and  in  the  night  I  heard  him  crying  and  praying  aloud  for 
mercy,  in  great  distress.  He  told  me  this  morning,  when  I 
asked  him  about  it,  that  he  dreamt  that  the  last  day  was 
come,  and  that  the  world  was  on  fire  :  and  he  began  imme- 
diately to  try  to  pray,  but  could  not ;  yet  he  went  on  trying 
till  he  heard  some  one  laugh  out  at  him,  and  say,  '  Ho  !  ho ! 
my  boy,  you  are  too  late  !— ho  1  ho  ! — too  late  !  I  have  got 
you  now — you  are  too  late  ! '  This  frightened  him  so 
much  that  he  woke  up,  and  getting  out  of  bed,  began  on 
his  knees  to  pray  in  earnest  for  the  Lord  to  have  mercy  on 
his  soul." 

Being  much  interested  in  the  young  man,  I  begged  her 
to  send  him  to  me  in  the  evening.  She  did  so  ;  and  when 
he  arrived  I  frankly  told  him  what  I  had  heard  about  him, 
and  particularly  about  his  distress  and  prayer  the  night 
before. 

"  Your  mother  has  prayed  for  you  for  years ;  and  when 
you  were  a  little  boy  you  prayed  the  Lord  to  save  you  :  last 
night,  again,  you  were  constrained  to  crj^  for  mercy.  These 
are  all  tokens  of  God's  good  intentions  and  purposes  towards 
you.    Can  you  trust  Him  ?  " 

As  he  hesitated  (for  so  many  like  to  feel  something 


LV  A  VISION  OF  THE  NIGHT?  2S7 


before  they  make  the  venture  of  faith),  I  continued,  "  These 
tokens  are  better  than  feelings,  for  they  are  facts  and  sure 
signs  by  which  you  may  know  that  the  Lord  is  calling  you." 

We  may  well  understand  that  it  was  not  long  before  the 
Lord,  who  had  so  marvellously  opened  his  eyes  to  see  his 
sins,  enabled  him  by  the  same  Spirit  to  see  Jesus  as  His 
Saviour,  and  to  rejoice  in  the  forgiveness  of  his  sins.  Then 
I  asked  him  to  sit  down  again,  for  I  was  curious  to  hear 
about  the  dream  or  vision  which  he  had  had  some  months 
before  he  ever  saw  me. 

"  William,"  I  said,  "  did  you  ever  see  me  before  I  came 
to  this  parish  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  he  replied,  "  I  saw  you  once  in  a  vision,  more 
than  six  months  ago  ! " 

"  Do  you  mind  telling  me  about  it  ?  " 

After  a  little  hesitation,  he  answered,  "  I  often  dream 
things.  One  night  I  dreamt  that  I  was  walking  on  a  wild 
barren  common ;  there  were  many  bare  places  where  people 
had  cut  turf,  and  there  were  prickly  furze-bushes  about  I 
knew  there  were  some  old  open  mine-shafts  there,  for  people 
sometimes  fell  into  them  in  the  night ;  but  I  was  walking 
along  without  thinking  of  danger,  and  was  not  afraid,  though 
it  was  dark,  and  I  was  alone.  I  don't  know  how  long  I 
went  on  like  this,  but  next  I  found  I  was  walking  with  you. 
I  could  see  you  very  plainly,  just  as  if  it  had  not  been  dark, 
and  you  were  talking  about  Jesus  and  His  love  to  sinners. 
I  liked  your  words  very  much,  and  was  so  taken  up  with 
them  that  I  do  not  know  when  it  became  light ;  for  now  I 
could  see  the  rough  common,  and  a  path,  and  we  were 
walking  in  it  Going  along  this  path,  we  came  to  a  wall, 
and  I  could  not  go  any  further ;  but  you  walked  on  as  if 
there  were  no  wall.  Presently  you  stopped,  and,  turning  to 
me,  said,  '  Why  don't  you  come  on  ? ' 

"  I  answered,  « I  cannot' 


288 


FROM  DEATH  INTO  LIFE. 


"  '  Why  not  ? ' 

"  '  Because  there  is  a  wall  here." 

"  '  No,'  you  said,  '  there  is  no  wall — it  is  an  open  door.' 

"  I  was  surprised  at  your  saying  that,  for  I  could  feel  the 
wall  and  see  it. 

"  '  What  would  you  do  if  there  was  no  wall  ?  Do  that. 
It  is  not  a  wall,  but  a  door,'  you  said  ;  '  walk  on  forward  ! ' 

"When  I  ventured  forward  I  found  your  words  were 
true.  It  was,  indeed,  an  open  way,  leading  into  a  beautiful 
garden.  I  was  very  happy,  and  said,  'Whose  garden  is 
this?' 

"  You  answered,  '  It  is  the  Lord's,  and  you  are  to  dress 
it  and  work  in  it.' 

"Then  I  saw  the  Lord  Himself  He  came  forward, 
and  bidding  me  welcome,  said  that  you  should  teach  me  for 
three  years.    Then  I  awoke." 

From  this  extraordinary  narration  I  gathered  three 
things  for  myself 

First,  that  God  intended  me  to  come  to  this  place. 

Secondly,  that  I  was  to  labour  here  for  three  years. 

Thirdly,  that  I  was  to  teach  the  people  not  to  wait  for 
feelings,  but  to  act  upon  the  Word  of  God. 

This  last  intimation  was  so  clearly  signified  by 
William's  dream,  that  it  came  upon  me  with  striking  force. 
I  had  been  speaking  on  this  very  subject  more  than  once 
and  had  ventured  so  far  as  to  say  that  I  thought  this 
delusion  about  waiting  for  feehngs  was  from  the  devil,  to 
hinder  the  work  of  God  in  the  soul.  It  certainly  did 
hinder  us,  very  much ;  and,  moreover,  it  was  most  distress- 
ing to  see  people,  who  were  manifestly  impressed  under 
the  power  of  a  present  God,  waiting  for  Him ;  because 
they  did  not  feel  some  token,  which  they  had  set  their 
minds  upon. 

Day  by  day  souls  were  being  given  in  the  Church,  and 


REGENERATION.  289 

also  in  the  cottage  meetings;  so  that  I  could  not  help 
seeing  that  the  Lord  had  begun  to  use  me  again.  Some 
came  to  the  meetings  who  had  been  awakened  under  the 
ordinary  preaching  of  the  Gospel ;  some  because  others 
brought  them ;  and  some  out  of  curiosity.  One  of  the 
latter  cases  I  will  mention. 

A  married  woman,  N.  R  ,  heard  people  talking  of 

the  work  which  was  going  on.  It  seemed  to  her  to  be 
such  a  strange  thing  in  connection  with  a  Church  minister^ 
that  she  came  to  a  cottage  meeting  to  judge  for  herself, 
without  the  remotest  idea  of  being  converted.  God's  ways 
are  not  as  ours  ;  while  she  was  listening,  the  Word  reached 
her  with  power,  so  that  she  was  convicted  and  converted, 
and  came  out  of  that  cottage  a  rejoicing  believer,  lost  in 
wonder,  love,  and  praise.  She  was  indeed  strikingly  and 
manifestly  changed,  and  did  not  hide  it.  It  was  such  a 
joy  and  surprise  to  her  that  she  could  not  help  telling  every 
one.  Out  of  the  abundance  of  her  heart  her  lips  spoke  to 
tell  of  the  loving-kindness  of  the  Lord. 


CHAPTER  XXXIIL 


1S5S-9. 

'HE  church  (so-called)  in  which  I  now  ministered 
had  been  built  by  persons  who  intended  to 
j  accommodate  the  largest  number  of  people  for 
the  smallest  amount  of  money.  It  was  scantily 
built,  and  almost  square,  with  galleries  on  three  sides.  On 
the  remaining  one  there  used  to  be  a  pulpit,  conspicuously 
placed  in  the  middle  of  the  wall.  This  important  portion 
of  the  edifice  was  now  removed  to  one  side,  to  make 
room  for  a  Communion  table,  the  seats  in  fix>nt  being 
arranged  chancel- wise,  facing  one  another,  for  the  choir. 
This  place  was  quite  a  damper  to  my  ecclesiastical  tastes ; 
besides  being  ugly  in  the  extreme. 

I  tried  by  putting  ornamental  scrolls  over  the  windows, 
and  by  staining  the  glass  in  them,  to  make  some  improve- 
ment I  also  painted  a  diaper  pattern  round  the  side  walls ; 
and  upon  the  high  blank  wall  behind  the  Communion 
table  exercised  all  the  skill  I  possessed,  but  fear  it  was 
somewhat  in  \-ain,  though  I  laboured  hard  The  designs 
looked  very  weU  on  paper,  but  when  displayed  on  the  wall 
gave  no  satisfaction  ;  so  one  after  another  they  disappeared. 


CONSECRATED  ROOMS. 


291 


till  my  dbsohii^  views,  as  tbey  were  caOed,  ended  m  a 
large  donated  cross  of  gold,  wid  a  mooogram  intertwined 
in  it,  on  a  dark  backgroand. 

When  once,  howerer,  die  Lord  began  to  bless  die 
Word,  and  souls  were  awakened,  de^iite  afl  anti^cdesias- 
tical  appearances,  my  heart  was  drawn  towards  the  i^y 
place,  and  I  loved  it  greatly.  I  could  never  have  bdieved 
that  my  former  tastes  and  tendencies  could  hare  been  so 
completely  changed  as  tbey  were. 

In  those  days  it  was  a  strai^e  lioDg  to  bold  an  afier- 
meetii^  in  a  church ;  it  was  newer  done,  even  by  the  few 
who  had  soch  meeth^  Therefore,  I  took  the  anxioos 
ones  and  others  to  my  own  boose  for  the  inquiry  meetii^ 
after  the  evening  service.  Having  taken  up  the  carpet  in 
the  drawing  room,  we  fitted  it  op  with  chairs  and  fonns  to 
accommodate  ninety  people,  while  half  as  many  more 
occupied  the  hall,  and  o6en  irnmbfrs  stood  ootside  the 
windows.  In  this  house  it  pleased  God  to  give  us  very 
many  souls,  who  were  broo^  in  week  by  week  for  several 
months.  I  believe  every  room  in  that  boose,  like  the 
rooms  at  Baldhn  Parsonage,  was  conseaated  as  the  birth- 
place of  one  or  more  of  God's  children. 

The  nnmber  of  those  who  attended  the  after-meetiiig 
became  so  great,  that  we  found  it  necessary  to  go  to  the 
large  schooboom.  This  place  win  also  be  remembered 
in  eternity,  and  many  a  sool  wiD  say  of  it,  "  I  was  bora 
tijere!" 

One  nigjit,  when  I  returned  home  from  a  distant  meet- 
ing, I  was  called  to  see  a  person  in  great  distress  of  souL 
As  I  went  down  the  street  at  deven  o'clock,  I  was  surprised 
.      in  almost  an  the  houses^  and  what  was  raoie, 
ts  in  urgent  and  iuipotHmate  prayer,  as  also  the 
r.-Jis^riag.    The  iriule  street  was  alive,  and 
:z  Tfzs  a  most  "joyftil  ooise  "  on  every  ade.  I 


292 


FROM  DEATH  LXTO  LIFE. 


was  praying  or  rejoicing  in  one  house  or  another  all  through 
the  night,  which  was  one  flever  to  be  forgotten. 

A  glorious  work  of  salvation  was  going  on  without  the 
extravagant  noise  and  excitement  we  used  to  have  in  former 
years.  I  was  exceedingly  thankful  for  this  also,  and  began 
next  to  consider  what  was  to  be  done  with  these  new  con- 
verts. Besides  inviting  them  to  the  church  services,  for 
which  they  needed  no  pressing,  I  urged  them  to  read  their 
Bibles  at  home,  bidding  them  to  mark  any  passages  where 
they  wished  for  explanation,  that  I  might  have  something 
good  and  profitable  to  speak  about  when  I  visited  them. 
Then  I  invited  them  to  Bible-classes ;  instead  of  to  expe- 
rience meetings,  which  Cornish  people  rely  upon  so  much. 
On  these  occasions  I  endeavoured  to  instruct  the  people 
from  God's  Word,  and  put  Christ  before  them  as  the  object 
of  faith,  hope,  and  love.  After  prayer  I  encouraged  them 
to  ask  questions,  which  made  these  gatherings  interesting 
and  also  instructive  on  the  very  points  upon  which  they 
required  information. 

I  found  that  these  Bible-classes  were  a  great  blessing  to 
those  who  attended  them,  but  more  than  all,  perhaps,  to 
myself ;  watering  other  souls  with  the  water  of  life  I  was 
more  abundantly  watered.  The  questions  of  the  people 
drew  my  attention  to  distinctions  and  differences  I  had  not 
noticed  before,  and  helped  to  take  off  the  coloured  glasses 
through  which  I  had  hitherto  read  the  Word. 

I  observed  that  the  third,  sixth,  and  twentieth  chapters  of 
St.  John's  Gospel  had  been  held  and  interpreted  by  me  in 
a  way  that  I  now  saw  to  be  altogether  wrong.  I  had  taken 
the  first  of  these  as  bearing  on  Baptism,  the  second  on  the 
Holy  Communion,  and  the  third  on  Priestly  Absolution. 

I  pondered  much  over  these  chapters,  and  marvelled 
how  they  could  have  been  so  diverted  from  their  original 
and  obvious  meaning ;  and,  more  wonderful  still,  that  count- 


THE  NEW  BIRTH. 


293 


less  millions  in  Christendom  had  so  received  them  for  many 
generations.  It  was  a  bold  thing,  and  seemingly  presump- 
tuous to  suppose  that  I  was  right  and  all  Christendom 
WTong ;  but  I  soon  found  that  mine  was  no  new  discovery, 
and  that  if  millions  who  followed  traditions  without  com- 
paring them  with  the  Bible,  thought  on  one  side,  there  were 
also  millions  who  did  read  their  Bibles,  and  thought  on 
the  other. 

It  was  perfectly  clear,  moreover,  that  one  obvious  motive 
or  policy  had  dictated  the  false  application  of  the  three 
chapters.  It  will  be  observed  that  priest  rule  is  established 
in  them  ;  for,  according  to  this  teaching,  no  one  can  enter 
the  kingdom  of  God  without  priestly  operation  in  baptism  ; 
no  one  abide  or  be  fed  in  it  without  the  same  in  Holy  Com- 
munion ;  nor  any  one  receive  absolution  from  sin,  and  final 
release  from  hell  to  heaven,  apart  from  .sacerdotal  action. 

On  the  other  hand,  I  saw  spiritual  men,  as  sure  as 
they  were  of  their  own  existence  that  their  new  birth  took 
place,  not  at  baptism,  but  at  their  conversion.  There- 
fore they  were  convinced  that  t^e  third  chapter  of  St. 
John,  in  which  our  Lord's  conversation  with  Nicodemus 
is  recorded,  refers  to  that  spiritual  change  which  takes 
place  at  conversion,  and  not  to  baptism,  which  was  not 
even  instituted  for  two  or  three  years  afterwards  (Matt, 
xxviii.  19). 

Again,  as  to  the  sixth  chapter.  A  spiritual  man  knows 
that  he  feeds  continually  on  the  body  and  blood  of  Christ, 
it  is  the  "  Bread  which  came  down  from  heaven  "  for  him. 
The  Lord  said,  "  He  that  eateth  Me,  even  he  shall  live  by 
Me"  (John  vi.  57).  They  know  how  they  received  spiritual 
life,  and  also  how  it  is  continually  maintained ;  therefore 
they  could  not  allow  themselves  to  be  carried  away  with 
such  a  palpable  fiction  as  transubstantiation,  or  any  other 
doctrine  kindred  to  it.    The  sixth  chapter  does  not  refer  to 


294  FROM  DBA  TH  INTO  LIFE. 

the  Lord's  Supper,  but  the  Lord's  Supper  refers  to  the 
reality  which  is  mentioned  in  it. 

Lastly,  as  to  the  twentieth  chapter  of  St  John,  on  the 
authority  of  which  it  is  supposed  and  asserted  that  Christ 
left  power  with  His  Church  and  priests  to  forgive  sins.  Of 
this  we  may  say,  He  has  not  delegated  any  such  powers  at 
all.  When  He  gave  commission  to  His  disciples  (not 
exclusively  to  the  apostles).  He  said,  "  Lo,  I  am  with  you." 
Our  power  is  not  imparted  to  us  from  Him,  but  is  in  Him. 
We  have  no  power  at  all,  but  in  Him,  and  no  grace  but 
that  which  is  in  Christ  Jesus  (2  Tim.  ii.  i).  It  is  His  pre- 
sence, His  real,  promised  presence  by  the  Holy  Ghost, 
which  is  spiritual  power ;  and  this  is  given  directly  to  in- 
dividuals by  God  Himself,  and  is  not  transmitted  through 
other  channels. 

The  Lord  Jesus,  on  His  resurrection  day,  said  to  His 
disciples,  in  the  upper  room — and,  be  it  remembered,  that 
all  the  eleven  were  not  there  (and  some  women  may  have 
been) — "  Peace  be  unto  j'ou.  Receive  ye  the  Holy  Ghost : 
Whose  soever  sins  ye  remit,  they  are  remitted  unto  them ; 
and  whose  soever  sins  ye  retain,  they  are  retained" 
(John  XX.  23). 

Is  it  possible  or  reasonable  to  suppose  that  our  Lord 
intended  by  these  words  to  constitute  all  that  assembly 
absol\-ing  priests  ?  The  aposdes  and  early  Christians  (both 
men  and  women)  never  thought  so,  either  before  or  even 
after  the  day  of  Pentecost,  when  they  were  taught  and  led 
by  the  Holy  Ghost  The  apostles  did  not  exercise  any  so- 
called  priestly  functions ;  they  all  preached  the  Gospel,  and 
as  ministers  and  witnesses,  declared,  through  Jesus  Christ, 
the  forgiveness  of  sins.  Their  testimony  was  then,  as  such 
testimony  ever  will  be,  the  savour  of  life  or  the  savour  of 
death.  It  was  thus  they  remitted  and  retained  sins ;  and 
yet  not  they,  but  God  by  them. 


LIFE  OF  ADELAIDE  NEWTON. 


295 


^Miile  I  was  thus  nuninadng^  a  book  came  into  my 
hands  which  interested  me  greatly.  This  I  read  and  re- 
read, and  made  an  abstract  of  it.  It  was  the  "  Life  of 
Adelaide  Newton."  Vihsx.  struck  me  in  it  so  mocfa  was,  to 
find  that  this  lady  was  able  to  hold  spiritual  commonion 
with  God  by  means  of  a  Bible  only.  Is  it  possibly  I 
thought,  to  have  such  dose  conmranion  with  God,  apart 
from  the  Church  and  her  ministrations  ?  I  do  not  hedtate 
to  say  that  this  was  the  means,  under  God,  oS  stripping  off 
some  remains  of  my  grare-dothes,  and  enabling  me  to 
walk  in  spiritual  liberty,  instead  <A  legal  and  sacramental 
bondage. 

Human  reasoning  would  say,  "  What,  dien,  is  the  nse 
of  ministry  and  sacraments  ?  Let  us  dispense  with  them, 
and  be  independent  of  them  altogether."  This  is  no  better 
than  saying  that  we  will  continue  in  sin  that  grace  may 
abound ;  and  the  same  answer  which  the  apostle  gives  wiU 
do  for  this  also  :  "  God  fcsbid  ! " 

It  does  not  follow,  because  some  people  make  too 
much  of  ministry  and  sacraments,  malring  them  absolutely 
necessary  to  salvation,  that  we  should,  on  the  other  hand, 
disregard  them-  There  is  another  and  a  happaer  alterna- 
tive, and  that  is,  to  realize  they  were  made  for  us,  not  we 
for  them ;  therefore  we  should  not  be  subject  to  them,  bnt 
rather  they  should  be  subject  to  us,  and  be  used  by  us,  not 
in  order  to  obtain  God's  grace  and  salvation,  but  to  show 
that  we  have  already  done  so.  In  our  obedience  to  God's 
ordinances,  we  acknowledge  our  altegianne  to  Him,  and 
our  submission  to  His  wiD. 

For  fear  that  my  people  should  go  oS;  as  too  many  do, 
into  disregard  of  the  "  means  of  grace,"  because  sacramental 
people  make  too  much  of  them,  I  began  a  dass  for  exposi- 
tion and  Explanation  erf"  the  Prayer-book.  I  commenced  by 
showing  them  that  the  Church  of  England  is  the  Lord  s 


296  FROM  DEATH  INTO  LIFE. 

candlestick  in  this  country,  not  the  candle,  and  certainly 
not  the  light,  but  the  candlestick  which  the  Lord  set  up 
here,  possibly  even  as  early  as  the  days  of  the  apostles,  to 
show  the  true  light,  which  is  Christ.  And  though  Romish 
corruptions  supervened,  it  pleased  God,  at  the  time  of  the 
Reformation,  to  raise  up  men  to  deliver  us  from  them,  and 
to  restore  true  Bible  teaching. 

Thus  I  endeavoured  to  show  them,  that  the  system  of 
the  Church  of  England  was  one  which  should  commend 
itself  to  their  regard,  as  quite  agreeable  to  Scripture ;  and  if 
it  is  not  carried  out  according  to  its  intention,  that  is  not  the 
fault  of  the  system,  but  rather  of  those  who  administer  it. 

Next,  as  to  worship. 

The  object  of  our  assembling  in  the  house  of  God  is 
not,  I  said,  so  much  to  hear  sermons,  or  get  instruction,  as 
in  Bible,  or  other  classes,  but  rather  "  to  render  thanks  for 
the  great  benefits  we  have  received  at  God's  hands,  to  set 
forth  His  most  worthy  praise,  to  hear  His  most  holy  word, 
and  to  ask  those  things  which  are  requisite  and  necessary 
as  well  for  the  body  as  the  soul."  That  worship  is 
devotion  towards  God ;  it  consists  more  in  giving  than 
in  getting.  Some  of  the  people  were  greatly  interested 
when  I  pointed  out  to  them,  that  the  order  of  our  Ser- 
vice was  exactly  the  same  as  the  order  of  their  spiritual 
experience,  in  conviction,  conversion,  and  Christian  life. 

For  example,  the  Morning  Service  begins  with  a  sentence 
such  as,  "  To  the  Lord  our  God  belong  mercies  and  for- 
givenesses, though  we  have  rebelled  against  Him ; "  then 
comes  the  Exhortation,  which  moves  us  to  surrender  our- 
selves ;  then  the  Confession,  which  is  the  act  of  surrender. 
Immediately  after  this  is  declared  the  Absolution  and 
forgiveness  of  sins,  "to  all  who  truly  repent,  and  un- 
feignedly  believe  the  Gospel."  • 

Then  comes  the  Lord "s  Prayer,  which  leads  us,  at  once, 


CHURCH  TEACHING. 


297 


into  the  place  of  children,  accepted  in  the  Beloved  :  then 
follow  acts  of  thanksgiving— 

"  Open  Thou  my  lips,  and  my  mouth  shall  show  forth  Thy  praise." 

"  Oh,  come  let  us  sing  unto  the  Lord,  let  us  heartily  rejoice  in  the 
strength  of  our  salvation." 

These,  and  such-like  explanations,  helped  to  enlist  the 
interest  of  the  people ;  and  whereas,  before,  they  only  used 
to  endure  the  prayers,  while  waiting  for  the  sermon,  now 
they  engaged  in  them  intelligently,  and  even  with  more 
delight  than  in  extempore  prayer. 

As  to  the  Communion  Service  I  bade  them  notice  that 
it  begins  with  the  Lord's  Prayer,  in  which  we  draw  near 
to  our  Father,  not  as  sinners,  but  as  His  children ;  asking 
for  a  clean  heart  and  for  grace  to  live  according  to  His 
will ;  then,  we  approach  the  table,  unworthy,  indeed,  to 
take  even  the  crumbs  under  it,  but  trusting  in  His  mercy. 
We  do  not  go  there  to  offer  a  sacrifice  of  Christ's  body,  but 
of  our  own,  as  a  thanksgiving  to  God,  offering  and  presenting 
ourselves — spirit,  soul,  and  body — a  living  sacrifice  to  His 
service. 

Every  week  we  took  some  subject  from  the  Prayer-book, 
noticing  the  special  seasons  in  their  order,  such  as  Advent, 
Christmas,  Epiphany,  Lent,  Easter,  Ascension,  and  Whit- 
suntide, each  with  their  respective  teaching. 

I  was  now  happy  in  my  work  ;  but  it  did  not,  of  course, 
go  on  as  sweetly  as  the  theory  sets  it  forth.  We  made, 
however,  as  straight  a  course  as  we  could,  under  contending 
winds  and  currents.  The  intelligent  part  of  my  congrega- 
tion, however  interested  they  were  in  the  work  outside  the 
church  and  the  worship  within,  nevertheless,  had  their 
misgivings  and  doubts,  which  they  did  not  hide.  They 
said :  "  This  teaching  seems  all  true  and  scriptural ;  but 
what  will  become  of  us  if  you  go  away,  and  another  man 


298  FROM  DBA  TH  INTO  LIFE. 


comes  who  thinks  otherwise  ?  We  have  no  security  as  in 
the  chapels,  that  conversion  work  will  go  on,  and  living 
souls  be  fed  and  encouraged.  Very  few  churches  have 
such  a  work  as  the  Lord  is  doing  here  ! " 

This,  indeed,  was  the  sad  part  of  working  in  the  Church 
of  England  then.  Even  still,  there  is  much  discouragement 
on  this  head;  and  too  many  living  souls,  who  would  not 
willingly  go,  are  driven  away  from  their  own  Church,  to  seek 
teaching  in  other  communions ;  but  they  cannot  take  their 
children  and  servants  to  witness  priestly  ceremonials,  or  to 
hear  sacramental,  as  opposed  to  spiritual  teaching ;  neither 
can  they  conscientiously  give  countenance  to  these  things, 
by  going  themselves. 

However,  I  endeavoured  to  pacify  the  people  by 
begging  them  to  be  thankful  for  present  privileges,  and  to 
trust  God  to  lead  them  for  the  future. 

It  is  an  awful  thing  to  see  and  know  that  people  come 
for  bread,  and  get  a  stone  ;  for  fish,  and  they  get  a  serpent ; 
and  for  an  egg,  they  are  offered  a  scorpion  (Luke  xi.  ii,  12). 
Exceedingly  trying  it  is  to  be  frowned  upon  by  clerical 
brethren  in  the  presence  of  Dissenters,  who,  to  say  the 
least,  do  know  the  difference  between  life  and  death.  In 
one  church  we  have  the  service  elaborately  rendered,  and 
the  sermon  is  nothing;  in  another  the  sermon  is  every- 
thing, and  the  service  most  slovenly ;  and,  too  often,  souls 
remain  unawakened,  and  perishing  on  all  sides. 


CHAPTER  XXXIV. 


^ht  Morh  ©ontmucir. 

1859. 

HILE  I  was  at  Hayle,  I  had  so  much  to  do  among 
the  people,  and  so  many  meetings,  that  I  seldom 
had  leisure  to  go  out  for  preaching  elsewhere ; 
nor  do  I  remember  that  I  had  many  invitations 
to  do  so.  Occasionally  I  went  to  preach  at  Penzance, 
where  a  good  work  was  steadily  progressing  at  St.  Paul's 
Church  ;  but  other\vise,  I  seldom  left  my  pulpit. 

Everything  was  now  going  on  in  a  way  which  satisfied 
me,  after  all  my  tossings  to  and  fro.  I  was  surrounded 
with  a  happy  people,  who  were  living  and  working  for  the 
Lord.  All  the  week  they  were  busy,  and  also  on  the  watch 
for  souls.  On  Sunday  they  came  regularly  to  church,  with 
an  intelligent  idea  of  worship,  and  joined  heartily  in  the 
services  of  the  day.  At  eight  o'clock  in  the  morning  they 
assembled  in  large  numbers  for  the  Holy  Communion; 
then  we  had  the  usual  morning  and  evening  services  in  the 
church,  concluding  with  a  prayer  meeting.  In  the  after- 
noon we  had  something  else.  There  was  the  Sunday 
school  for  some  of  our  workers ;  tract  distribution  for  others  : 
many  went  out  to  preach  in  the  villages ;  and  others  went 


300 


FROM  DBA  TH  INTO  LIFE. 


with  me  either  to  the  sands,  the  common,  or  on  board  some 
ship,  for  an  evangehstic  service.  The  day  of  rest  was  not 
one  of  inactivity,  but  of  useful  and  happy  occupation  for 
the  Lord.  Many  a  former  Sabbath-breaker,  now  changed 
and  rejoicing  in  God,  was  amongst  us,  delighting  in  the 
Christian  privilege  of  working  for  the  Master.  It  was  a  day 
that  many  of  them  looked  forward  to  and  spent  with  intense 
delight ;  and  on  Monday  evening  we  met  to  tell  what  we 
had  seen  and  heard  of  the  Lord's  goodness  to  ourselves  and 
others. 

Whenever  the  good  ship  "  Cornwall "  was  in  harbour,  it 
was  expected  there  would  be  a  preaching  on  "  board  of 
her,"  under  the  well-known  Bethel  flag.  The  mate  of  this 
vessel  had  been  a  terribly  wicked  man,  and  a  most  daring 
blasphemer.  It  pleased  God  to  convert  his  soul  in  a 
remarkable  manner;  and  now  nothing  would  do  but  he 
must  work  for  God. 

One  Sunday,  when  he  was  at  Cardiff,  he  heard  that  a 
vessel  which  had  left  that  port  on  the  previous  Friday 
morning  had  gone  down  with  all  hands.  He  was  greatly 
grieved  about  this  ;  for  one  of  the  seamen  of  the  vessel  was 
in  former  times  a  friend  and  companion  of  his.  He  had 
prayed  for  his  soul,  but  hitherto  without  any  success,  and 
this  added  to  his  grief  To  his  amazement,  he  saw  his 
friend  standing  on  the  quay.  "Hallo!"  he  said,  "lam 
glad  to  see  you.  How  is  it  you  are  here  ?  Have  you  heard 
that  your  vessel  has  gone  down  with  all  hands  ?  " 

"  Has  she,  indeed ! "  he  exclaimed,  bursting  out  into 
tears;  "then  it  is  all  my  fault,  for  I  let  her  go  short- 
handed.  After  we  set  sail  I  had  words  with  the  captain,  so 
he  dismissed  me,  and  I  came  back  in  the  pilot  boat.  It  is 
all  my  fault !  " 

"  This  is  the  third  time,  then,  that  the  Lord  has  given 
you  your  life,"  said  Sam.    "  You  had  better  call  on  Him  to 


THE  BETHEL  FLAG. 


301 


have  mercy  on  yonr  souL"  So  saying,  be  fell  00  Ws  knees, 
and  began  to  pray  for  him.  His  companion  soon  foDoved, 
crying  aloud  for  mercy.  Thongh  a  cnwrd  of  people  quickly 
assembled  and  stood  round,  he  took  no  h^d,  bat  continued 
his  supplication  until  he  obtained  mercy,  and  coold  praise 
God- 
Seeing  that  some  of  the  bystanders  were  looking  anxioas, 
Sam  invited  them  on  board  his  ship  and  had  a  meetings  at 
which  he  told  them  how  the  Lord  had  saved  his  souL 
Having  received  much  encouragement  that  dzj,  he  deter- 
mined, if  possible,  that  he  woxild  get  a  Bethel  flag,  and 
hold  ser%-ices  whenever  and  wherever  he  could. 

On  his  arrival  at  Havle  from  CardiflT,  he  went  at  once  to 
see  the  wife  of  the  owner  of  the  ship,  knowing  that  she 
took  a  great  interest  in  the  welfare  of  sailors.  He  told  ber 
his  plans,  and  made  his  request  for  a  Bethel  Sag,  wbidi  this 
lady  kindly  and  generously  gave  him  permission  to  get. 

On  obtaining  it,  Sam  came  and  asked  me  if  I  would 
preach  at  the  first  hoisting  of  it.  This  I  consulted  to  do, 
and  on  the  following  Sund^  afiemoon  we  bad  a  large 
concourse  of  people  on  board,  and  also  on  the  quay  along- 
side.  I  gave  out  the  hymn — 

«0  God  of  Bethel,  fay  whose  hand 
Thy  people  aill  are  fed." 

■While  I  was  giving  it  otit,  Sam  ran  his  flag  up  to  the 
masthead  in  the  shape  of  a  balL  So  it  remained  while 
we  were  singing;  and  during  the  prayer  which  followed; 
and  when  I  gave  out  my  text  (Gen.  xxriiL  19),  "  He 
called  the  name  of  that  place  Bethel,"  Sam  pulled  iIk 
halyard,  and  the  Sag,  some  eighteen  or  twenty  feet  loi^ 
flew  out  in  all  its  grandeur.  Before  the  sermon  was  finished, 
some  of  the  people  began  to  cry  for  mercy,  and  dear  Sam 
was  in  an  ecstasy  of  delight,  and  rejoiced  aloud.    Thcs  his 


302 


FROM  DEA  TH  INTO  LIFE. 


flag  was  inaugurated  with  blessing  from  on  high,  and  "  Many 
is  the  time  since,"  said  Sam,  "when  souls  have  been  blessed 
under  it,  both  at  Cardiff  and  at  Hayle." 

I  have  said  nothing  about  the  infidels  I  had  to  work 
amongst  when  I  first  came  to  this  place.  Some  of  them 
raged  and  opposed  themselves  against  us  for  a  time,  but 
one  by  one  the  ringleaders  of  their  party  were  brought  to 
God,  and  eventually  their  club  dwindled  away.  The  his- 
tory concerning  some  I  have  already  published  in  tracts ; 
but  there  is  one  case  I  feel  I  must  insert  here,  for  besides 
being  a  remarkable  history,  there  is  much  teaching  in  it. 

It  is  the  story  of  a  man  who  professed  to  be  an  infidel, 
and  used  to  speak  very  freely  of  things  which  he  said  he 
did  not  believe.  For  instance,  he  boasted  that  he  did  not 
believe  in  God  or  the  Bible,  Christ  or  devil,  heaven  or 
hell ;  though  I  must  say  he  seemed  to  believe  in  himself 
very  considerably.  It  was  very  difficult  to  deal  with  a  man 
who  took  his  stand  upon  nothing  but  negatives.  He  was 
well  known  among  his  neighbours,  dreaded  by  some  and 
quite  a  mystery  to  others.  He  was  continually  to  be  seen 
about  with  a  gun,  especially  on  Sundays,  when  he  was  not 
ashamed  to  be  thus  desecrating  God's  holy  day  ;  on  the 
contrary,  he  rather  prided  himself  in  not  "  shifting  "  his 
working-day  clothes,  when  other  people  were  dressed  in 
their  best. 

It  was  sad  to  see  a  man  of  such  intelligence  and  capacity 
defying  public  respect  and  opinion,  and  trampling  upon 
every  sense  of  right  and  propriety.  There  is  generally  a 
reason,  if  we  can  only  discover  it,  why  people  outrage 
public  opinion,  and  break  out  of  the  stream  and  path  of 
their  fellow-men. 

One  Sunday  evening,  however,  after  a  day  spent  as 
usual,  in  idling  about  and  shooting  httle  birds,  our  friend 
John  was  observed  by  a  woman  standing  outside  a  church, 


THE  INFIDEL.  303 

under  the  window  nearest  to  the  pulpit.  He  stood  there, 
listening  very  attentively  to  the  sermon,  till  it  was  over ;  and 
then,  before  the  congregation  could  come  out,  he  made  off 
stealthily  and  hastily,  to  escape  observation.  But  passing 
near  the  woman  who  had  been  watching  him,  she  heard  him 
say,  with  a  look  of  distress  on  his  countenance,  "  It's  no 
use — the  devil's  sure  to  have  me  !    It  doesn't  matter  !" 

This  woman  told  me  on  Monday  morning  what  she  had 
seen  and  heard ;  so  I  determined  to  go  at  once  and  see  the 
man.  It  was  not  his  dinner-time  yet ;  but  I  thought  I 
would  have  a  little  conversation  with  his  wife  before  he 
came  home.  To  my  surprise,  however,  I  found  him  there. 
"  What,  not  working  to-day,  John  ?  "  I  said.  "  What's  the 
matter  ?  " 

"I  ain't  very  well,"  he  answered.  "  I  got  no  sleep  last 
night ;  but  I  mean  to  work  in  the  afternoon,  for  all  that," 
he  continued,  with  an  air  of  determination  and  defiance. 

"What's  the  matter?  Have  you  got  anything  on  your 
mind  ?  "  I  inquired. 

"  Mind  ! "  he  repeated,  as  if  in  contempt  at  the  thought. 
"There  is  not  much  that  ever  troubles  my  mind."  He  then 
went  on  to  give  me  a  long  account  of  his  bodily  ailments. 

"  But  do  you  never  think  about  your  soul,  John  ?  "  I 
asked ;  "  never  think  about  another  world  and  eternity  ?" 

"  Soul  and  eternity  1  I  don't  believe  in  either  the  one 
or  the  other  of  them  ! " 

"  Not  believe  you  have  a  soul  !  Come,  John,  I  am  sure 
you  know  better  than  that."  And  I  went  on  to  speak  of  the 
joys  of  heaven  and  the  bitter  torments  of  hell ;  of  the  love  of 
God,  who  willeth  not  the  death  of  the  sinner,  but  rather  that 
he  should  turn  and  live  ;  and  then  I  proceeded  to  tell  him  of 
the  atonement  which  Jesus  Christ  finished  on  the  cross,  and 
that  now  there  is  pardon  for  the  vilest  sinner  through  the 
efficacy  of  the  blood  which  has  been  shed  once  for  all 
14 


304 


FROM  DEA  TH  INTO  LIFE. 


"  You  know,  John,"  I  continued,  "  that  I  do  not  care  to 
argue  about  these  things.  There  is  mercy  for  you,  if  you 
will  have  it.  We  can  bring  water  to  the  horses,  but  we 
cannot  make  them  drink.  My  business  is  to  put  the  way 
of  pardon  and  salvation  plainly  before  you  ;  and  after  that, 
if  you  reject  it,  it  will  be  your  own  fault  if  you  perish.  Do 
you  know  how  to  get  forgiveness  of  sins  ?  " 

He  seemed  very  uneasy  all  the  time  I  was  speaking , 
and  at  length,  after  a  pause,  he  looked  me  in  the  face  with 
a  hardened  expression,  and  said,  "  There's  no  pardon  for 
me — I  know  it." 

"  That  cannot  be,"  I  said  ;  "  I  do  not  believe  it." 

"  No,"  he  continued,  "  there's  no  pardon  for  me.  I 
have  known  that  for  fourteen  years." 

I  inwardly  resolved  to  get  this  dreadful  secret  from  him, 
which  was  driving  him  to  such  evident  desperation.  A  few 
days  afterwards  an  opportunity  occurred,  and  I  pressed 
upon  him  for  his  own  sake  to  tell  me,  or  some  one  else, 
what  had  happened  fourteen  years  ago ;  and  what  special 
communication  he  had  had  with  another  world. 

"Oh,"  he  said,  "I  never  told  anybody;  but  I  would  as 
soon  tell  you  as  any  one  else.  I  had  a  dream  once — do 
you  ever  have  dreams?  I  have  many  things  told  me  in 
dreams."  Then  he  was  silent ;  but  I  was  more  curious  than 
ever  now,  and  begged  him  to  tell  me  what  had  happened. 
At  last  he  began,  "  I  dreamt  that  I  was  walking  along  a 
broad  smooth  road,  where  everything  was  most  lovely  ;  the 
weather  was  fine,  and  the  scenery  grand ;  there  were  beauti- 
ful gardens,  churches,  chapels,  theatres,  houses,  and  indeed 
everything  you  could  think  of.  The  people  all  seemed  to 
be  delighting  in  it,  and  as  though  they  were  out  for  a 
holiday.  Some  were  walking,  some  singing,  some  dancing, 
and  in  one  way  or  the  other  they  all  appeared  to  be  enjoy- 
ing themselves  beyond  bounds.    Seeing  a  working  man  in 


THE  ALARMING  DREAM. 


a  field  close  by,  I  called  to  him,  and  asked  '  Where  does 
this  road  lead  to  ?  '  He  answered,  '  To  hell,  straight  on  ; 
you  cannot  miss  !'  'Hell !'  I  was  surprised;  '  Hell,'  I  said 
to  myself,  '  this  is  very  different  to  what  I  thought.  Is  the 
way  to  hell  as  pleasant  as  this  ?  and  are  people  so  uncon- 
cerned about  it?'  I  was  amazed;  but  though  the  man 
told  me  this  pleasant  road  led  to  hell,  I  did  not  stop  ;  I 
went  on  and  on,  seemingly  as  pleased  as  others  were. 
However,  it  did  not  continue  like  this  long,  for  soon  I 
came  to  a  rough  part,  all  up  and  down,  where  the  atmo- 
sphere was  thick  and  sulphury,  and  it  was  almost  dark.  I 
did  not  like  it,  and  wished  very  much  to  get  out  of  the 
place,  but  I  could  not. 

"  Seeing  some  people  in  the  distance,  I  went  near  to  ask 
them  the  way  out.  They  were  busy  with  long  rakes  raking 
cinders  about  on  the  dry  ground,  and  would  not  answer  my 
urgent  inquiries.  As  I  approached  them  I  saw  that  they 
did  not  look  like  '  humans,'  and  that  every  now  and  then 
fire  appeared  from  under  ground,  over  which  they  raked 
cinders  to  keep  it  out  of  sight.  They  were  so  absorbed  in 
their  work  that  they  did  not  heed  my  question,  though  I 
pleaded  more  and  more  earnestly.  At  last,  I  observed  that 
one  of  them  ceased  from  his  strange  work,  and  looked  at 
me  ;  whereupon  I  addressed  myself  to  him,  begging  him  to 
show  me  the  way  out  of  the  place."  John  added,  "If  I  ever 
prayed  in  my  life  I  prayed  then ;  but  he  shook  his  head  as 
if  he  pitied  me,  and  said  mournfully,  '  The  way  you  came 
in.'  I  replied,  '  I  cannot  find  it ' ;  then  again  he  shook  his 
head,  as  if  to  say,  *  You  never  will.'  I  was  obliged  to  rise 
from  my  knees,  for  the  ground  was  so  hot,  and  in  my  des- 
pair I  ran  I  know  not  whither.  As  I  passed  along  in  haste, 
I  came  to  cracks  in  the  ground  full  of  fire ;  I  stepped  over 
them  one  after  another,  and  ran  on  till  I  came  to  such  a  large 
chasm,  that  I  could  not  jump  over  it.    I  turned  and  went 


3o6  FROM  DEATH  INTO  LIFE. 

in  another  direction,  leaping  and  running,  in  a  state  of 
terror,  till  at  last  I  came  upon  a  sheet  of  glowing  fire,  into 
which  I  fell.  Then  I  awoke.  For  fourteen  years  this  has 
followed  me ;  there  is  no  hope  for  me  ! " 

By  this  time  he  became  very  much  excited  and  agitated  : 
seizing  his  cap  he  ran  out  of  the  house,  leaving  his  wife  and 
myself  in  mute  astonishment  at  his  strange  tale. 

I  went  home  pondering  over  the  meaning  of  this  dream, 
and  was  struck  at  the  amount  of  truth  in  it.  I  thought — 
How  fair  are  the  promises  of  the  world  to  begin  with,  and 
how  delusive  and  disappointing  they  are  at  the  end  !  Of 
course,  Satan,  the  god  of  this  world,  will  make  the  way  of 
hell  as  bright  and  pleasing  as  he  possibly  can  ;  and  if  people 
take  outward  circumstances  and  pleasing  prospects  for 
indications  of  safety,  they  wilfully  lay  themselves  open  to  this 
deadly  delusion.  What  a  number  there  are  who  know,  or 
might  know,  that  they  are  on  the  road  to  hell ;  that  they 
cannot  miss  ;  and  yet  they  go  on  1  And  then  how  many 
people  there  are  who  rake  cinders ;  that  is,  when  thoughts 
of  death,  or  judgment,  or  hell,  obtrude  themselves,  how 
readily  they  cover  them  over  with  hopes  of  escape,  or 
some  good  intentions  to  be  better,  before  it  is  too  late  ! 
How  often  parents  do  the  same  for  their  children,  for  they 
cannot  bear  to  think  of  their  being  lost  for  ever ;  so  they 
hope  that  somehow  they  will  be  changed  before  they  die  ! 
How  often  preachers  rake  cinders  also,  by  addressing 
their  hearers  as  if  they  were  all  safe,  and  only  wanted  a 
little  teaching  now  and  then ;  and  it  may  be  a  little  warning 
occasionally  !  They  cannot  bear  to  tell  them  plainly  that 
they  are  lost  now,  and  may  be  lost  for  ever,  if  they  do  not 
repent  and  believe  the  Gospel;  they  would  rather  "be 
persuaded  better  things  of  them,  and  things  which  accom- 
pany salvation,"  though  they  know  for  certain  that  there  are 
many  unsaved  ones  in  their  congregation.    They  entertain 


RAKING  THE  CINDERS.  307 

them  with  good  hearty  services  and  pleasing  sermons,  and 
then  let  them  go  on  their  way  to  the  solemn  end,  perfectly 
unconscious  of  any  danger. 

The  Lord  Jesus  had  no  such  false  charity  as  this.  He 
has  told  us  plainly  that  we  are  all  perishing  creatures,  and 
that  there  is  no  hope  for  any  one  of  us  while  we  are  still  on 
the  broad  road  to  ruin  and  in  an  unchanged  state  ;  that  we 
must  be  born  again  or  we  cannot  see  the  kingdom  of  God ; 
that  we  must  believe  on  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  who  died  in 
our  stead  on  the  cross,  or  perish  for  ever.  Preachers  there- 
fore ought  to  be  more  faithful,  because  life  is  so  uncertain, 
and  the  warnings  of  God  so  sure. 

Well  did  John  dream  that  they  did  not  look  like  human 
beings,  who  were  raking  cinders  to  keep  the  fire  out  of  sight. 

After  some  days  I  got  light  on  the  subject  of  this  awful 
dream,  and  hastened  to  tell  John  that  I  had  found  the  way 
out  of  that  fearful  place  for  him.  He  would  not  hear  me 
for  some  time ;  but  I  told  him,  that  the  prodigal  son  said, 
"  I  will  arise  and  go  to  my  Father,  and  say  unto  Him,  I 
have  sinned."  "You  see,  John,"  I  continued,  "he  came 
back  the  way  he  went,  and  he  found  pardon ;  that  is  the 
way  for  you." 

I  then  knelt  down  and  prayed,  and  he  knelt  with  me  at 
his  table.  There  he  remained  for  four  hours,  without  speak- 
ing a  word,  until  I  was  thoroughly  exhausted  and  obliged  to 
go.  No  sooner  had  I  gone,  than  John's  heart  failed  him, 
and  he  burst  out  crying  aloud,  and  said  to  his  wife,  "  Oh, 
Mary,  what  shall  I  do  ?  what  shall  I  do  ?  " 

"Take  the  book  and  read,"  she  said,  pushing  the  Bible 
along  the  table  to  him.  It  was  open  at  the  fifteenth  chapter 
of  St.  Luke,  where  he  read  the  words  aloud,  "I  will  arise 
and  go  to  my  Father,  and  will  say  unto  him,  Father,  I  have 
sinned."  The  spell  was  broken  and  the  string  of  his  tongue 
loosed,  so  that  he  cried  aloud  for  mercy. 


3o8 


FROM  DEATH  INTO  LIFE. 


This  was  no  unusual  thing  in  one  house  or  another; 
but  in  this  particular  dwelling  it  was  wonderful.  His  next- 
door  neighbour,  who  had  often  heard  the  sound  of  cursing 
and  swearing  there,  but  never  the  voice  of  prayer,  was  so 
astonished,  that  he  rose  and  came  to  the  door  to  assure 
himself  of  the  astonishing  fact.  It  was  quite  true ;  surely  it 
was  John's  own  voice  praying.  So,  lifting  the  latch,  he  went 
in  and  shouted,  "  Glory  to  God  ! "  The  louder  William 
shouted,  the  louder  John  cried  for  mercy.  When  listening 
to  his  friend,  who  pointed  him  to  "  the  Lamb  of  God,  who 
takcth  away  the  sin  of  the  world,"  he  found  that 

"  There  is  life  for  a  look  at  the  Crucified  One  ;  " 

and  then  they  shouted  and  praised  God  together. 

It  was  a  joyful  meeting  when  I  saw  him  again,  and 
thanked  God  with  him  for  the  marvellous  change  which 
had  been  ^vrought  in  his  soul.  His  very  face  was  altered ; 
and  instead  of  the  restless  and  defiant  glare  there  used  to 
be  in  his  countenance,  there  was  rest  and  cheerfulness. 

I  pointed  out  to  him,  from  that  same  portion  of  the 
Word  of  God  which  had  been  blessed  to  his  soul,  that  there 
was  something  more  to  be  had  than  the  pardon  that  he  had 
already  received;  that  there  was  also  the  best  robe,  the 
ring,  the  shoes,  and  the  feast  of  rejoicing.  The  Father's 
arms  round  the  neck  of  the  prodigal  son  is  a  token  of  for- 
giveness— the  robe,  of  righteousness  divine  which  is  imputed 
to  us ;  the  ring,  of  our  union  with  Christ ;  the  shoes,  of 
strength,  even  grace,  with  which  we  walk ;  and  the  feast  of 
rejoicing,  the  believer's  privilege  of  joy  and  thanksgiving. 

John's  conversion  was  a  remarkable  event,  and  caused  a 
great  sensation ;  crowds  of  his  fellow-workmen  used  to 
stand  round  him  while  he  told  his  wonderful  story.  "Oh," 
he  said,  "  I  used  to  say  there  was  no  hell,  when  all  the  time 


THE  CONVERTED  INFIDEL. 


309 


I  had  it  bilVning  in  my  heart ;  but,  glory  be  to  God,  I  am 
saved  from  hell  to  heaven  ! " 

He  seldom  prayed  in  public  after  this,  without  begging 
the  Lord  to  loose  the  string  of  the  tongue  ;  for,  as  he  said 
(speaking  from  experience),  "  so  many  are  held  captive  by 
that  dumb  devil."  He  became  a  true  missionary  for  souls, 
and  was  very  zealous  in  his  testimony,  especially  amongst 
his  old  companions,  who  worked  in  the  same  factory  :  he 
had  the  joy  of  seeing  many  of  them  brought  to  the  Lord. 

John  seemed  to  realize  unseen  things  in  an  unusually 
striking  way.  He  was  a  man  who  in  his  sleep  had  vivid 
dreams,  and  who  in  his  waking  hours  pondered  much  upon 
eternal  realities,  so  that  he  spoke  as  one  who  lived  in  sight 
of  another  world. 


CHAPTER  XXXV. 


Dismissal 

i860— 6i. 

[ran^^F  this  work  at  Hayle  was  not  "a  success,"  in  every 
kpft  ^  sense  of  the  word,  I  do  not  yet  know  what  success 
iKr^ryMl  in  parochial  ministry  is.  If  large  congregations 
may  be  counted ;  many  communicants  taken  into 
reckoning ;  with  frequent  services,  and  schools  full  of  chil- 
dren— we  certainly  had  these.  But  above  all,  we  had  a 
continual  ingathering  of  souls,  who  will  testify  throughout 
eternity  of  the  blessedness  and  reality  of  the  work  of  God 
during  the  time  I  was  there. 

It  so  happened  that  as  we  approached  the  term  of  three 
years,  of  which  I  had  been  premonished  when  I  first  came, 
that  my  dear  friend,  Mr.  Aitken,  came  to  pay  us  a  visit 
He  preached  with  more  amazing  power  than  ever.  His 
appeals  were  altogether  overAvhelming,  and  I  do  not  wonder 
that  the  people  fell  on  their  knees,  as  they  did  then  and 
there,  and  cried  aloud  for  mercy. 

A  newspaper  reporter  who  came  to  hear  this  "great 
man  "  preach,  was  at  first  observed  to  be  writing  very  dili- 
gently ;  then  he  paused,  and  his  hand  fell ;  then  his  pencil 
and  book  went  from  his  grasp ;  presently  he  himself  fell  on 


THE  REPORTER'S  REPORT.  311 

his  knees,  and  began  to  cry  for  mercy.  We  were  curious 
afterwards  to  read  his  report. 

In  it  the  grateful  man  acknowledged  his  indebtedness, 
and  the  blessing  he  had  received.  As  to  the  sermon,  he 
likened  it  to  one  of  the  storms  of  the  great  Atlantic.  He 
said,  "At  such  a  time  it  is  interesting  to  stand  on  the  shore 
and  watch  the  sea,  and  to  note  the  power  of  wind  and  waves 
while  the  storm  is  raging.  Even  then  it  is  sometimes  terrific 
enough  ;  but  how  much  more  so  when  the  wind  veers  and 
the  mighty  waves  come  rolling  in  one  after  another,  and 
breaking  with  tremendous  force  upon  the  rocks  on  which  we 
stand  !  So  it  was  with  this  preacher.  All  eyes  were  fixed  on 
him  when  he  gave  out  his  text,  and  proceeded  with  his  usual 
introduction.  Now  and  then  he  alarmed  and  roused  us  with 
the  power  of  his  oratory ;  but  when  he  turned  to  apply  his 
subject  to  the  consciences  of  the  people,  he  became  irre- 
sistible. Immediately,  there  was  heard  on  all  sides  a  cry  for 
mercy.  The  stentorian  voice  of  the  preacher  was  audible 
above  all  others  as  he  went  on  to  apply  the  Word  with 
unrelenting  force,  till  very  few  hearts,  however  liard, 
remained  unbroken." 

This  was  a  memorable  day  with  us.  Twice  was  the  church 
filled  and  emptied  ;  and  again  a  third  time,  in  the  evening 
the  people  crowded  in  and  filled  the  place.  Far  into  the 
night  we  wrought  amongst  the  anxious  and  broken-hearted, 
bidding  them  to  look  at  the  Crucified  One  and  live. 

Mr.  Aitken  was  not  a  man  who  raked  cinders  over  the 
fire,  but  rather  raked  them  off,  and  that  in  true  kindness 
and  love ;  but  with  terrible  and  awful  plainness  he  showed 
the  danger  of  trifling  with  the  Gospel,  and  presuming  upon 
God's  love  and  forbearance. 

On  Monday  evening  we  invited  the  people  to  assemble 
in  the  large  schoolroom,  which  was  filled  to  excess.  Here 
I  thought  that  the  schoolmaster's  desk  would  have  been 


FROM  DEATH  INTO  LIFE. 


demolished  under  the  tremendous  energy  and  force,  both 
mental  and  physical,  of  this  preacher.  At  the  first  sign  of 
a  breakdown  among  the  people,  the  great,  tall  man,  in  his 
long  coat  or  cassock,  came  majestically  striding  out  from 
behind  the  desk.  That  was  enough.  A  hard  rough-looking 
sailor,  who  was  sitting  by,  with  his  eyes  fixed  on  Mr.  Aitken 
for  a  long  time,  fell  on  his  knees  and  began  to  roar  aloud 
for  mercy,  and  very  many  others  followed  his  example. 

I  asked  this  man  afterwards  what  it  was  that  had  had 
such  an  effect  upon  him  ?  "  Oh,"  he  replied,  drawing  his 
breath,  as  if  he  had  scarcely  yet  recovered  from  the  shock, 
"  that  big  man  was  bad  enough  the  other  side  of  the  desk, 
but  when  he  came  forth  to  the  front,  I  didn't  know  what 
would  happen  to  me.  I  was  obliged  to  cry  out  for  mercy ; 
I  couldn't  help  it." 

The  "  big  man,"  like  the  "  Stormy  Petrel,"  was  just  in  his 
element  in  such  a  scene.  In  the  gladness  and  joy  of  his 
heart  he  rejoiced  and  shouted,  "  Glory — glory  be  to  God  ! " 
in  a  way  which  no  one  else  could  imitate  or  follow. 

In  the  midst  of  this  scene  of  confusion  (as  it  must  have 
appeared  to  an  outside  observer,  if  such  an  one  was  there), 
sat  a  woman,  looking  on  at  the  people  praying  and  praising 
God,  when  all  at  once  Mr.  Aitken  turned  suddenly  upon  her 
and  said,  "  And  you,  my  sister  !  "  Immediately  she  gave  a 
scream,  and  was  down  on  her  knees  in  a  moment,  crying 
for  mercy  as  loud  as  the  loudest 

If  Cornish  people  like  a  noise,  they  certainly  had  it  that 
evening  to  their  hearts'  content.  As  I  have  said  before, 
when  there  is  a  real  power  of  the  Spirit  present,  the  out- 
pouring of  the  heart  with  noisy  demonstration  is  joyous  to 
those  who  go  with  the  stream,  and  are  in  sympathy  with  it ; 
but  if  those  present  stop  to  doubt  the  propriety  of  such  an 
outcry,  and  begin  to  rebuke  those  who  make  it,  then  I  think 
the  answer  that  the  Lord  gave  the  Pharisees  would  still  be 


THE  OFFENDED  RECTOR. 


313 


applicable  :  "  I  tell  you  that,  if  these  should  hold  their  peace, 
the  stones  would  immediately  cry  out "  (Luke  xix.  40). 

It  was  a  great  triumph,  and  the  rams'  horns  did  more 
execution  in  these  two  days  than  the  silver  trumpets  had 
done  in  as  many  years. 

The  next  day,  as  soon  as  Mr.  Aitken  had  gone,  the 
rector  came  to  see  me.  He  appeared  to  be  somewhat 
embarrassed  at  first,  but  after  a  little  time  said  (looking  on 
the  ground),  "  You  know  I  am  no  revivalist.  I  do  not  like 
all  this  uproar.  I  cannot  have  it"  He  then  went  on  to 
say  that  he  wished  me  to  leave,  for  though  he  had  given  a 
guarantee  that  if  I  succeeded,  he  would  build  me  a  church 
and  endow  it,  he  could  not  do  anything  of  the  kind  now, 
for  he  did  not  consider  my  work  any  success  whatever — 
quite  the  contrary.  "  These  converted  people  (as  you  call 
them)  are  no  churchmen  ! " 

I  replied,  that  I  had  taken  his  voice  as  from  God  in 
inviting  me,  and  I  supposed  that  I  must  take  the  same  for 
my  dismissal,  if  he  really  intended  it ;  but  I  urged  upon  him 
to  consider  the  matter  well  before  he  broke  up  the  work 
which  was  going  on  there,  for  whatever  he  thought  about  it 
it  was  undoubtedly  a  work  of  God,  though  one  certainly  not 
very  common  in  churches 

Without  saying  another  word  he  took  up  his  hat  and 
went  away.  His  departure  was  so  abrupt  that  I  could  not 
believe  he  intended  me  to  receive  this  as  six  months'  notice. 
Consequently,  I  went  on  with  my  work  as  usual,  finding 
plenty  to  do,  more  especially  after  Mr.  Aitken's  energetic 
visit.  There  were  many  new  converts  to  add  to  our  classes  ; 
anxious  ones  to  be  guided  and  led  to  Christ ;  and  broken- 
hearted and  despairing  ones  to  be  comforted  and  built  up. 
The  work  under  such  a  preacher  is  by  no  means  finished 
with  his  visit,  however  long  or  short  it  may  bej  but,  on  the 
contrary,  it  may  rather  be  said  to  begin  there. 


314 


FROM  DEA  JH  INTO  LIFE. 


After  some  months,  the  rector  came  again  to  remind  me 
that  he  had  given  me  notice  more  than  five  months  before, 
and  that  he  wished  me  to  leave  at  the  beginning  of  the  year, 
as  he  had  secured  the  services  of  a  clergyman  whose  views 
were  in  accordance  with  his  own.  I  was  much  grieved  at 
this,  and  could  only  lay  it  before  the  Lord,  and  beg  of  Him 
to  order  all  according  to  His  will. 

The  following  morning,  without  any  seeking  on  my  part, 
I  received  an  invitation  from  Bath,  asking  me  to  come  and 
take  charge  of  the  district  of  St.  Paul's,  in  the  parish  of 
Holy  Trinity.  Thus  was  the  door  shut  behind  me,  and 
another  opened  in  front.  This  was  so  unmistakable,  that 
I  could  not  but  be  satisfied,  and  acquiesce  in  the  manifest 
will  of  God  ;  though,  naturally,  I  felt  great  sorrow  at  having 
to  leave  the  people  and  the  work  I  loved  so  well.  I  said 
nothing  about  my  dismissal,  but  went  on  with  my  various 
engagements  as  usual,  though  I  had  only  a  little  more  than 
three  weeks  left  me. 

By  some  means  it  appeared  in  the  newspapers,  that  I 
was  appointed  to  a  district  in  Bath,  and  another  clergyman 
was  named  as  my  successor  at  St.  John's,  Hayle.  This  fell 
as  a  great  blow  ujjon  my  people,  who  were  both  grieved  and 
angry ;  but  I  could  not  comfort  them,  any  more  than  I 
could  help  myself 

The  last  Christmas-day  came  and  went,  a  sad  and 
sorrowful  day  it  was ;  then  the  last  day  of  the  year,  and  the 
last  night.  We  held  our  watch-night  service  as  usual, 
thanking  God  for  the  mercies  of  the  past,  and  entered  upon 
the  new  year  with  thanksgiving  and  prayer. 

Thus  ended  my  work,  and  eventful  sojourn  at  Hayle,  a 
little  more  than  three  years  after  it  began.  A  very  sorrowful 
trial  it  was,  and  one  of  bitter  disappointment ;  but  the  Lord's 
leading  was  clear,  and  I  have  since  proved  that  it  was  all 


THE  QUAINT  OLD  PICTURE. 


315 


right,  though  at  the  time  it  was  most  mysterious  and  very 
dark. 

A  few  weeks  before  leaving  Hayle,  as  I  was  sitting  by 
the  fire  one  wet  afternoon,  my  e)-es  fell  on  a  little  coloured 
picture  on  the  mantel-piece,  which  had  been  the  companion 


of  my  journeys  for  all  the  twenty  years  of  which  I  have 
been  writing.  It  was  a  quaint  mediaeval  illustration  of  Moses 
lifting  up  the  serpent  in  the  wilderness,  copied  from  a 
valuable  manuscript  (Book  of  Prayers)  in  the  Bodleian 
Library  at  Oxford. 


3i6 


FROM  DEATH  INTO  LIFE. 


As  I  looked  at  the  engraving  before  me,  I  began  to 
suspect  for  the  first  time  that  there  was  a  design  in  the 
arrangement  of  the  figures,  and  that  it  was  really  intended 
to  convey  some  particular  teaching.  I  took  it  in  my  hand 
and  studied  it,  when  I  observed  that  the  cross  or  pole  on 
which  the  serpent  was  elevated  stood  in  the  centre,  dividing 
two  sets  of  characters,  and  that  there  were  serpents  on  one 
side,  and  none  on  the  other. 

Behind  the  figure  of  Moses,  is  a  man  standing  with  his 
arms  crossed  on  his  breast,  looking  at  the  brazen  serpent. 
He  has  evidently  obtained  life  and  healing  by  a  look.  On 
the  other  side,  I  observed  that  there  were  four  kinds  of 
persons  represented,  who  were  not  doing  as  this  healed  one 
did  to  obtain  deliverance. 

First,  there  is  one  who  is  kneeling  in  front  of  the  cross, 
but  he  is  looking  towards  Moses,  and  not  at  the  serpent, 
and  apparently  confessing  to  him  as  if  he  were  a  priest. 

Next  behind  him  is  one  lying  on  his  back,  as  if  he  was 
perfectly  safe,  though  he  is  evidently  in  the  midst  of  danger ; 
for  a  serpent  may  be  seen  at  his  ear,  possibly  whispering 
"  Peace,  peace,  when  there  is  no  peace." 

Still  further  back  from  the  cross  there  is  a  man  with  a 
sad  face  doing  a  work  of  mercy,  binding  up  the  woimds  of 
a  fellow-sufferer,  and  little  suspecting  that  he  himself  is 
involved  in  the  same  danger. 

Behind  them  all,  on  the  background,  is  a  valiant  man 
who  is  doing  battle  with  the  serpents,  which  may  be  seen 
rising  against  him  in  unabating  persistency. 

I  observed  that  none  of  these  men  were  looking  at  the 
brazen  serpent  as  they  were  commanded  to  do.  I  cannot 
describe  how  excited  and  interested  I  became ;  for  I  saw  in 
this  illustration  a  picture  of  my  own  life.  Here  was  the 
way  of  salvation  clearly  set  forth,  and  four  ways  which  are 
not  the  way  of  salvation,  all  of  which  I  had  tried  and  found 


A  RETROSPECT. 


317 


unavailing.  This  was  the  silent  but  speaking  testimony  of 
some  unknown  denizen  of  a  cloister,  who  lived  in  the 
beginning  of  the  fifteenth  century,  in  the  days  of  ignorance 
and  superstition.  But  notwithstanding  this  darkness,  he 
was  brought  out  into  the  marvellous  light  of  the  Gospel, 
and  has  left  this  interesting  record  of  his  experience. 

Like  him,  I  also  had  fought  with  serpents,  for  I  began 
in  my  own  strength  to  combat  with  sin,  and  strove  by  my 
own  resolutions  to  overcome.  From  this,  I  went  on  to  do 
good  works,  and  works  of  mercy,  in  the  vain  hope  of  thus 
obtaining  the  same  for  myself  Then,  I  relied  in  the  Church 
for  salvation,  as  God's  appointed  ark  of  safety  j  but  not  feel- 
ing secure,  I  took  another  step  beyond,  and  sought  forgive- 
ness through  the  power  of  the  priest.  This  I  found  was  as 
ineffectual  as  all  my  previous  efforts.  At  last,  I  was  brought 
(by  the  Spirit  of  God)  as  a  wounded  and  dying  sinner,  to 
look  at  the  Crucified  One.  Then  (as  I  have  related),  I 
found  pardon  and  peace.  Ever  since  it  has  been  my  joy 
and  privilege  (like  Moses  pointing  to  the  serpent)  to  cry, 
"  Behold  the  Lamb  of  God,  which  taketh  away  the  sin  of 
the  world"  (John  i.  29).  "I  have  determined  to  know 
nothing  but  Jesus  Christ  and  Him  crucified that  is,  to  tell 
only  of  the  person  and  office  of  Jesus  Christ  our  Lord. 

Nearly  twenty  years  have  elapsed  since  the  period  at 
which  this  book  closes,*  and,  during  all  that  time  I  have 
verified  the  truth  and  reality  of  the  teaching  and  experience 
I  have  recorded  in  this  volume.  All  these  years,  with  their 
months,  weeks,  and  days  have  passed  by,  and  have  found 
me  continually  rejoicing  in  the  work  of  the  Lord — often 
wearied  in  it,  but  never  of  it — often  tempted  to  falter,  but 


*  I  may,  perhaps,  at  some  future  time,  give  an  account  of  these  latter 
twenty  years. 


318 


FROM  DEA  TH  INTO  LIFE. 


always  enabled  to  persevere.  I  have  seen  many  rise  and 
start  well,  who  have  collapsed  or  retired  ;  many  who  have 
blazed  like  a  meteor  for  a  short  time,  and  then  disappeared 
from  the  scene. 

May  I  here,  in  a  few  parting  words  to  the  reader,  tell 
how  it  is  that  I  have  been  kept.  I  believe  it  is — First, 
Because  I  have  never  failed  to  insist  upon  the  absolute 
necessity  of  conversion,  saying  in  the  words  of  the  Master, 
"  Marvel  not,  Ye  must  be  born  again "  (John  iii.  7). 
Secondly,  Because  I  have  preached  nothing  but  what  is 
taken  from  the  Word,  and  required  nothing  to  be  believed 
for  Salvation  and  Edification,  but  what  can  be  proved 
thereby.  Thirdly,  Because  I  have  exhorted  living  souls 
with  purpose  of  heart  to  cleave  unto  the  Lord  ;  firmly 
believing  that  He  who  died  to  save,  rose  again  from  the 
dead,  and  lives  to  keep  His  people. 

When  we  are  saved,  we  are  debtors  to  God,  to  devote 
ourselves  to  His  serv  ice,  and  for  His  glory  :  besides  this,  we 
are  debtors  to  men,  to  make  known  to  them  the  grace  which 
we  have  received;  and  we,  as  faithful  stewards  of  God, 
should  be  ever  ready  (and  not  ashamed)  to  preach  the 
Gospel,  for,  "  It  is  the  power  of  God  unto  salvation  to  every 
one  that  believeth"  (Rom.  L  16). 


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price,  $30.00.  ' 
This  edition  of  the  WORKS  OF  CHARLES  DICKENS,  known  as  "Chap- 
man &  Hall  B  Household  Edition,"  in  size  of  page,  type,  and  general  style  excels 
every  otUr  in  the  imirUt    It  contains  all  the  writings  of  Dickens  acknowledged  by 
Mm  indudes  -TiiE  LIFE  OF  DICKENS"  by  JoLi  FoESTEB,  and  is  superUy 
Illustrated  with  m  engravings.  i~  * 


A  Short  Life  of  Charles  Bichens. 

With  Selections  from  his  Letters.    Bv  Charles  H.  Jones,  author  of 
"Macaulay:   his  Life,  his  Writings."     "Handy-Volume  Series." 
Paper,  35  cents ;  cloth,  60  cents. 
The  work  is  an  attempt  to  give,  in  a  compact  form,  snch  an  account  of  the 
life  of  Dickens  as  will  meet  the  requirements  of  the  general  reader.  Liberal  ex- 
tracts are  made  from  the  letters  of  Dickens,  in  order  that,  so  far  as  possible  he 
may  depict  himself  and  tell  bis  own  story.  ' 


VII. 

Memoirs  of  Madame  de  Remusat. 

1802-1808.    Edited  by  her  Grandson,  Paul  de  Remusat,  Senator. 
In  three  vols.,  paper  covers,  8vo.    Price,  $1.50.    Also,  in  one  vol 
cloth,  12mo.    Price,  $2.00.  ' 
"Notwithstanding  the  enormous  library  of  works  relating  to  Napoleon,  we 
know  of  none  which  cover  precisely  the  ground  of  these  Memoirs.    Madame  de 
Remusat  was  not  only  lady-in-waiting  to  Josephine  during  the  eventful  years 
1802-1808.  but  was  her  intimate  friend  and  trusted  confidant.  Thus  we  £ct  a  view 
of  the  daily  life  of  Bonaparte  and  his  wife  and  the  terms  on  which  they  lived  not 
elsewhere  to  be  found."— iV«2c  York  Mail. 


vm. 

Memoirs  of  JSTapoleon. 

His  Court  and  Family.    By  the  Duchess  d'Abrantes.    In  two  vols., 

12mo,  cloth.  Price,  $3.00. 
The  interest  excited  in  the  first  Napoleon  and  his  Court  by  the  "Memoirs  of 
Madame  de  Remusat"  has  induced  the  publishers  to  issue  the  famous  '-Memoirs 
of  the  Duchess  d'Abrantes,"  which  have  hitherto  appeared  in  a  costly  octavo 
edition,  in  a  much  cheaper  form,  and  in  style  to  correspond  with  the  12mo  edi- 
tion of  De  Remusat.  This  work  will  be  likely  now  to  be  read  with  awakened 
interest,  especially  as  it  presents  a  much  more  favorable  portrait  of  the  great 
Corsican  than  that  limned  by  Madame  de  Remusat. 


D.  Appieton  &  Co.'s  Ebcent  PnBLicATiox8.—( CWinuerf.) 


S 


IX. 

Recollections  and  Opinions  of  an  Old  Pio- 
neer. 

By  Peter  H.  Burnett,  the  First  Governor  of  the  State  of  California. 
1  vol.,  12mo,  468  pages,  cloth.    Price,  ,sl.75. 
Mr.  Burnett's  life  has  been  full  of  varied  experience,  and  the  record  takes  the 
reader  back  prior  to  the  discovery  of  gold  in  Calilornia,  and  leads  him  throuijh 
many  adventures  and  incidents  to  the  time  of  the  beginning  of  the  late  war. 
The  volume  is  replete  with  interest. 

X. 

Elihu  Bin^itt: 

A  Memorial  Volume,  containing  a  Sketch  of  his  Life  and  Labors, 
with  Selections  from  his  Writings  and  Lectures,  and  Extracts  from 
his  Private  Journals  in  Europe  and  America.  Edited  by  Charles 
NoBTHEND,  A. M.    12mo,  cloth.  Price, 

XI. 

TJie  Life  of  David  Glasgow  Farragut, 

First  Admiral  of  the  United  States  Navy,  embodying  his  Journal  and 
Letters.    By  his  Son,  Lotall  Farragit.    With  Portraits,  Maps, 
and  Illustrations.    8vo.    Cloth.    Price,  .?4.00. 
"  The  book  is  a  stirring  one,  of  course  ;  the  story  of  Farraiut's  life  is  a  tale 
of  adventure  of  the  most  ravishing  sort,  so  that,  aside  from  the  v.iUie  of  this 
work  as  an  authentic  biography  of  Ihe  greatest  of  American  naval  commanders, 
the  book  is  one  of  surpassing  interest,  considered  merely  as  n  narrative  of  difB- 
cuU  and  dangerous  enterprises  and  heroic  achievements'."— Xtiti  York  Ei-etiing 
Post. 

"Two  of  the  most  brilliant  and  important  naval  exploits  of  the  war  were 
achieved  by  Farragut,  and  no  name  in  the  service  rivaled  his  either  in  the  esti- 
mation' of  his  coiihtrymeu  or  in  the  opinion  of  foreign  obseiveTs."— Saturday 
Seview. 

XII. 

Erasmus  Darwin. 

By  Ersst  Kraijse.  Translated  from  the  German  by  W.  S.  Dallas. 
With  a  Preliminary  Notice  by  Charles  Darwin.  With  Portrait  and 
Woodcuts.    One  vol.,  12mo.    Cloth.    Price,  $1.25. 

XIII. 

NEW  ILtrSTRATED  COOPER. 

Tlie  J\'ovels  of  J.  Feniinore  Cooper. 

With  64  Engravings  on  Steel,  from  Drawings  by  F.  0.  C.  Darlet. 

Complete  in  16  volumes.  Price  for  the  complete  set,  $20.00. 
•«*  This  edition  of  the  Novels  of  Cooper  is  the  cheapest  ever  offered  to  the 
public.  It  contains  the  entire  series  of  novels,  two  being  bound  in  each  volume ; 
and  the  series  of  steel  plates,  from  drawings  by  F.  O.'C.  Darley,  originally  en- 
graved for  the  finer  editions,  at  a  great  cost,  which  are  conceded  to  bo  the  best 
work  on  8teel  ever  produced  in  America. 


4 


D.  Applbtos  &  Co.'s  Becskt  PrBucAxioifB.— ((7on«n««rf.) 


XIV. 

Rodman  the  Keeper: 

Southern  Sketches.  By  Coxstaxce  Fesimoke  WoOLSoy.  One  vol., 
12mo.  Cloth.  Price,  $1.25. 
"  The  reader  of  these  sketches  can  not  fail  to  discover  for  himself  their  in- 
tensely poetic  quality— can  not  fail  to  recognize  the  poefs  hand  in  every  touch. 
Tropical  vegetation  is  not  richer  or  more  spontaneons  than  the  author's  fancy  ia. 
She  has  spoken  face  to  face  with  the  spirit  of  the  South,  and  has  learned  its  sad 
eecret  She  knows  its  nameless  joy,  and  its  undefinable  melancholy.  She  has 
felt  the  opulence  of  the  sunlight  there,  she  has  breathed  the  drowsy  breath  of  the 
Btiflingly  fragrant  flowers.  The  characters  slietched  are  strongly  dramatic  con- 
ceptions, and  the  portraiture  is  very  fine  and  distinct.  Each  ol  the  sketches  has 
that  breath  of  life  in  it  which  belongs  alone  to  what  is  called  human  interest. 
The  pathos  of  the  stories  is  wonderful,  but  it  is  wholesome,  natural  pathos,  not 
the  pathos  manufactured  by  the  literary  emotion-monger.  .Miss  Woolson's  art 
is  superb,  and  she  is  lovingly  faithful  to  W^—Ktw  Ym  k  Evening  Post. 

XT. 

Tlie  Return  of  the  Princess. 

From  the  French  of  Jacques  Tiscest.  "Xew  Handy-Tolume  Se. 
ries."    Paper,  25  cents. 

xn. 

Sebastian  Strome. 

A  Novel.  By  Julian  HATrrnoRKK.  8vo.  Paper  cover.  Price,  Y5 
cents. 

"  May  be  pronounced  the  most  powerful  novel  Mr.  Hawthorne  has  ever  writ- 
ten."—Zoncfon  Alhenaiim. 

"There  is  a  force  and  power  of  genius  in  the  book  which  it  is  impossible  to 
ignore."'— ionrfon  Spectator. 

XTII, 

Tlie  Seamy  Side. 

A  Novel.  By  Walter  Besaxt  and  Jaxies  Rice.  8to;  Paper  cover. 
Price,  50  cents. 

"  '  The  Seamv  Side '  is  the  title  of  a  new  novel,  by  Walter  Besant  and  James 
Rice,  the  authors  of '  The  Golden  Butterfly.'  '  By  Celia's  .Aj-bor,"  and  half  a  dozen 
other  stories.  There  are  several  strong  characters  in  it.  "  Anthony  Hamblin," 
a  great  self-sacrificing  London  merchant,  his  relative  '  Alison,'  his  brother  '  Ste- 
phen," and  a  'Miss  Nethersole,"  are  boldly  outUned,  and  touched  in  places  with 
great  spirit  and  life.  Like  '  The  Golden  Butterfly."  the  best  feature  of  the  book 
is  the  veui  of  enjoyable  humor  which  runs  through  it."— fiar^ford  Daily  Timet. 

mil. 

Maiich. 

A  Xovel.    By  Mart  E.  Brtan,  Editor  of  the  "  Sunny  South."  One 
vol.,  12mo.    Ootb.    Price,  |1.50. 
"  We  have  in  '  Mauch'  a  lurid,  melodramatic  story,  which  has  an  artistic  right 
and  reason  to  be  Ituid  and  melodramatic.  Its '  eensationalism,'  altboogh  some- 


D.  AlTtETOS  &  Co.'s  Erccrr  PcBUritioss.— /Q>r<«na«f.) 


5 


what  eia'^erated  is  proper  to  it.  aidinz  instead  of  hinderinf  iu  artistic  pmrpos*. 
preci»elT  as  scenes  offigbtins.  which  woald  be  oat  of  p.ace  in  a  af jrr  of  peac-?foi 
life  aid'the  artisiic  purpose  of  a  miliiarj  novel.  Moreover  this  strongly  sensa- 
tiOMl  storr  is  told  with  ^rSt  vigor  and  skiU:  its  dramatic  inadenu  are  presen> 
ed  dramaticallT ;  the  characters  of  its  personages  are  cieverly  di=cnmmate<l :  in 
a  word,  the  workmanship  of  the  piece  is  in  the  main  so  good  to  jastify  ua  ip 
sarin"  that  the  author  has  positive  gifts  as  a  noveliit.'  — >«c  Turk  tremng  Pt»t. 
■■  f  regard  it  as  one  of  the  moat  interesting  and  thrilling  stories  I  ever  read. 

— AI.EZASDEB  H.  STEPHESS. 


I)t  Cary. 

A  Novel  of  Virginia  Life  since  the  War.    By  M.  Jacqcellvx  Thob.v- 
TOS.    8vo.    Paper  cover.    Price,  75  cents. 
"  It  is  one  of  the  best  Soathem  noreU  that  has  yet  come  under  our  obserra- 


XX. 

A  Gentle  Belle. 

A  Xovel.  Bv  Cheistias  Beid,  anther  of  "  Valerie  Aylmer,'"  "  Mor- 
ton House,"'  etc.  8vo.  Paper  cover.  Price,  75  cents. 
"  'A  Gentle  BeHe'  has  a  strong  dramatic  interest,  and  freshness  and  oriai- 
nality  of  plot.  Like  its  author's  previous  essays  In  fiction,  it  is  weU  written,  and 
is  attractive  in  stvle  and  character.  The  interest  never  flags,  and  the  moral  ia 
sweet  and  wholesome.  Taken  for  an  in  all.  the  work  is  the  mort  artistic  in  de- 
sign and  eiecnaon  that  iu  writer  ha*  produced."— £«ton  GaztiU. 


TJie  Life  and  Words  of  Chmst. 


Bv  CcssiSGHAJt  Geikie,  D.  D.    a  new  and  cheap  edition,  printed 
from  the  same  stereotvpe  plates  as  the  fine  illustrated  edition. 
Complete  in  one  vol.,  8ro,  1,258  pages.    Cloth.    Price,  tl..50. 
This  is  the  only  cheap  edition  of  Geikie's  Life  of  Christ  that  contains  the 
copious  notes  of  the  author,  the  marginal  references,  and  an  index.  In  its  pres- 
ent form  it  is  a  marv  el  of  cheapness. 

"  A  wort  of  the  highest  rank,  breathing  the  spirit  of  true  faith  in  Christ. 
Dr.  DelUzuch.  the  Commentator. 

'•A  most  valuable  addition  to  sacred  literature."— .i.  X  LiUUioAn^  D.D., 
Biihop  of  Lang  Idand. 

■  1  have  never  seen  i 

1  a  MOTk.~— Austin  ^,  „„,, . 

■  A  °reat  and  noble  worL  rich  in  information,  eloquent  and  s^olariy  in  style, 
earnestly  devout  in  feeling."— Z<»i<ion  LUerary  Worid. 


XHL 

TJie  Longer  Epistles  of  Paul. 

Viz. :  Romans,  I  Corinthians,  II  Corinthians.  Bv  the  Rev.  HsxsT 
CoWLES,  D.  D.   One  toL,  12mo.   Cloth.   Price,  $2.00. 


6 


D.  Applkton  &  Co.'b  Eecent  PuuucinoTfa.— (Continued.) 


XXIII. 


Fifteen  Sermons, 

By  William  Rollixson  Whittingham,  Fourth  Bishop  of  Maryland. 

One  vol.,  12mo.  Cloth.  Trice,  ^1.50. 
"The. late  Bishop  of  Maryland  destroyed  many  of  his  Bermone  before  his 
death.  It  was  very  difficult  to  make  a  selection  from  those  remaining  but  at 
the  urgent,  repeated  request  of  his  friends,  twelve  have  been  chosen,  and  three 
already  i)UbliEhi  d,  but  now  out  of  print,  added  by  special  desire,  to  form  a  single 
volume.  ...  It  was  thought  best  to  include  as  many  on  general  topics  as  pos- 
sible, and  to  put  in  none  strictly  ivclnuaX."— Extract  from  i^tface 


JVotes  on  the  Parables  of  Our  Lord. 

By  Richard  Chenevix  Trench,  D.  D.  A  new  cheaper  edition 
12mo.    Cloth.    Price,  $1.25. 


A  Search  for  Winter  Sunbeams 

In  the  Riviera,  Corsica,  Algiers,  and  Spain.  By  Samttel  S.  Cox. 
With  Illustrations.  A  new  cheaper  edition.  12mo.  Cloth.  Price, 
$1.75. 


The  Elementary  Principles  of  Scientific 
Agriculture. 

By  N.  T.  Lfpton,  LL.  D.,  Professor  of  Chemistry  in  Vanderbilt  Uni- 
versity, Nashville,  Tenn.    12mo.    Cloth.    Price,  45  cents. 


Mind  in  the  Lower  Animals  in  Health 
and  Disease. 

By  W.  Lauder  Lindsat,  M.  D.,  F.  R.  S.  E.,  etc.  In  two  vols.,  8vo. 
Cloth.    Price,  $4.00. 


"  So  far  as  we  are  aware,  there  has  been  no  treatise  upon  the  subject  of  ani- 
mal intelligence  so  broad  in  its  foundations,  so  well  considered,  or  so  scientific 
in  its  methods  of  inquiry,  as  that  which  has  been  prepared  by  Dr.  W.  Lander 
Lindsay  in  two  large  volumes,  the  first  being  devoted  to  a  studv  of  animal  mind 
iu  health,  and  the  second  to  animal  mind  in  disease.  We  may  safely  say  that  hie 
work  is,  in  some  respects,  the  most  important  essay  of  the  kind  that  has  yet  been 
undertaken.  His  observations  have  been  supplemented  by  a  thorough  mastery 
of  the  history  and  literature  of  the  subject,  and  hence  his  conclnsions  rest  upon 
the  broadest  possible  foundation  of  safe  induction.  There  is  a  good  analytical 
index  to  the  book,  as  there  ought  to  be  to  every  work  of  the  kind."— ifets  York 
Evening  Fott. 


XXIV. 


XXV. 


XXTI. 


XXVII. 


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